


Dressed For Crime

by g0thboyfriend



Category: Great Pretender (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Crimes & Criminals, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Feels, Fix-It of Sorts, Found Family, Gender Dysphoria, Happy Ending, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Idiots in Love, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, PROUD FOUNDER OF FATHERLY!EDDIE, Romance, Trans Character, Trans Makoto, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, actually don't or you'll die, but they're also actually flirting???, humor???, makoto is cute and deadly, no beta we die like dorothy, oh and they're all stoners, slow burn? i don't know her, so much handholding, take a shot every time makoto says fuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 41,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28200807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/g0thboyfriend/pseuds/g0thboyfriend
Summary: Makoto felt as if the universe personally chose him to fist in the ass.He's already on the run from killing someone- it was anaccident, but the guy deserved it.He gets outsmarted by a blond bastard that has no right to be this hot.And the fucking cherry on top, he gets adopted by a mafia boss.Yep, he's gonna die.
Relationships: Edamura Makoto & Eddie Cassano, Edamura Makoto/Laurent Thierry
Comments: 148
Kudos: 164





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long note coming in so you can skip that if you want but I'll love you forever if you keep reading
> 
> First of all, my first language is french so please excuse any mistakes- no actually, I should begin by saying it's been a long, long time ever since I wrote anything and that's my excuse for my shitty writing. I'm also looking forward to flex my french with Laurent
> 
> I really wanted to picture the life of a trans Japanese kid as accurate as possible. No sugarcoating, no rainbows and sunshine. All details on dysphoria is from yours truly. 
> 
> It's kind of a fix it, but by that I mean how I would have liked things to go. There will still be dark subjects and I want that breakdown from case 4 to be real. But I promise a happy ending. I'm evil, but not at that point
> 
> With that all said, please enjoy!

**13 years old**

“Mum, there’s… something I have to tell you,” he stands awkwardly, his eyes drifting to the floor.

“What’s wrong, Maeko-chan?” His mother -bless her- has always cared so much for him, looking at her child with concern and love.

“I think we should sit down for this,” the young teen points to the chairs. 

As they look at each other quietly, Maeko gulps in nervousness. Should he even be doing this? Once he would admit it, there would be no turning back. He knows his mother loves him but he can’t ignore the possibility of being disowned. Or would she try to pretend nothing happened? Empty smiles and cold eyes. _Snap out of it! Come on, you can’t run away from this. It’s for your own well-being and you’re not selfish for wanting happiness._ Thankfully some part of him was still sane.

He fidgets with his fingers and takes a deep breath. “For a while, I… felt as if something was wrong with my body. I- um, hate looking at myself in the mirror but when I imagine myself as a boy, I feel… as if everything lines up correctly. I- I actually feel like myself.”

“O-Oh, dear…” Miki takes a shuddered breath. “I’m… I’m so sorry you feel that way. B-but I will try to support you as best as I can.”

The young boy looks up with teary eyes, slowly standing up before hugging his mother tightly. His body starts trembling before sobs escape from his mouth. As he buries his face in the crook of her neck, he feels a hand rubbing his back. He knows it’s only the beginning of an arduous and long journey, but it’s nice to know his mother will be by his side.

“S-So,” Miki starts, still sniffling, “I imagine you want to change of name.”

“Yeah, if you… If you don’t mind,” he hesitantly responds.

“No! I mean, of course not. Anything to help you.” She wipes off the tears from her son’s face, cupping his cheeks with her hands.

“Actually, I had something in mind,” he looks away shyly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. His mother nods, giving him time to finish. _‘Always be lawful. Contribute to the world. Be a respectable person.’_ “Makoto, ‘person of truth’. I think dad would like it.” He finishes smiling.

“What a fantastic idea! Your dad would be proud for sure. Ma-ko-to. Makoto. Makkun!” She ruffles her son’s head as she grins widely. 

“M-Mom!” he whines, a blush creeping across his face.

“Don’t worry, I’ll only use it between us. Now, let’s give you a haircut, shall we~?”

**14 years old**

“I’m telling you, mum, this uniform thing is bullshit!” Makoto angrily spits, walking in circles around the room.

His mum tiredly sighs. “I’m not sure I understand it either, Makkun. Two letters from psychiatrists for a _uniform change_?”

“You know as well as me how old-fashioned Japan is. The laws… they’re not made for people out of the norm like me.”

His mother looks back at him with a new conviction in her eyes. “Then we’ll keep fighting! We’ll go see a f.. fuh.. a damn psychiatrist. And we’ll get you the uniform you deserve.”

Makoto snorts. “You could never swear, mum. But.. thank you. I don’t think I could do it without you,” he sends her a warm smile before going up to his room. He passes the door leading to the balcony and grabs a pack of cigarettes hidden behind some plants. He fidgets with his lighter for a second - _why is the wheel so fucking small_ \- until he manages to light his cancer stick and takes a drag.

He was never into nicotine, really. He only started smoking because one; apparently it can deepen his voice, and two; it kinda makes him look cool. And hey, who needs lungs? 

Makoto looks up to the night sky and hopes to see a shooting star so that maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance his life can get better. 

**15 years old**

Makoto feels terrible about the cost of the appointments but they actually ended up with letters from two different psychiatrists diagnosing him with gender dysphoria. He should be feeling ecstatic that he can rub it in the director’s face and yet… all of this effort only so that he can be himself. What a wonderful system.

The first morning he wears the male uniform in his bedroom, binder on, he can’t seem to stop looking at his reflection. He got what he wanted, he’s doing his best to look masculine, and yet… his baby face, his waist, his hips, his voice… _ugh,_ truly a bittersweet moment. 

The students send him weird and disgusted looks. He knew what to expect but perhaps he wasn’t quite ready to feel like he carried some deadly disease. He goes to his desk and works quietly, as usual. He finds an ignored corner of the rooftop at lunch, as usual. He walks back home alone, as usual

**16 years old**

Makoto hadn’t received any news from his father. Quite frankly, he was starting to suspect he was dead. 'He's on a business trip,' his mum would say. And after 3 years, _this_ is what he gets!?

_“Suspected of human trafficking of minors, members of an organized crime group Suzaku Association were arrested. Tajima Tsuneo, Ishii Junya of the same association, and the lawyer Ozaki Seiji. The trio tricked minors who were illegal aliens and are suspected of having sold them to overseas buyers. Ozaki, a principal offender, would use his position as a lawyer to become a surety.”_

_‘-and the lawyer Ozaki Seiji.’_

**_‘-and the lawyer Ozaki Seiji.’_ **

His mother drops to the floor.

Business trip, my ass.

**17 years old**

“Mum, I finally found a job! You gotta admit, selling tea will be a piece of cake~” Makoto exclaims happily. He frowns when he notices his mother doesn't seem to share his happiness. 

“Makkun, I know you’re doing this to pay the hospital bills but please, put some money aside for your surgery.” She dares to look at him with a glare filled with concern.

“Nonsense, what's more important than anything else is your health! Even if it hurts because to them I’m still... still Maeko...” he looks down ashamed. Guilt-tripping his mother is the opposite of what he wants to do but words just seem to come out of his mouth on their own.

“My poor Makkun… I truly wish I could have afforded hormones for you. I’m really sorry you have to go through that.”

Makoto slaps himself mentally and hastily responds, “It’s really not your fault, mum. Not everyone can afford 18,000 yen per month!”

Miki sighs and holds his hand warmly. “I can only hope your inheritance will help you, if only slightly.”

“D-Don’t say that!”

“Oh, honey, you’ll have to accept it one day. Besides,” she smiles as her eyes close, “if that means I can still help you even when I’m gone, it makes me very happy.” 

Makoto hugs his mother tightly before cuddling with her in comfortable silence, cherishing every second he can spend with her.

**18 years old**

_'Dear mum,_

_~~So, the tea business was a shitshow~~ _ _They say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I suppose I couldn't run away from my destiny forever. I'm really sorry, mum. I should have paid more attention._

  
  


_The notion that I legitimately wasn't aware I was working for_ _a scam company and yet no one believed my innocence just shows_ ~~ _how he keeps ruining lives_~~ _people were just satisfied that I turned out like my father. I don't understand how you forgive him but I suppose there's no way for me to change your belief. ~~He's a pathetic excuse of a father, it's his fault you're sick~~_

_The food's not too bad, although I terribly miss your cooking. I think I made a friend if I can even call it that. She says killing that rapist was the best thing she's done. I can't help but respect her for that. We chat sometimes._

_I try not to look at myself too much or it would be a downward spiral. I'm not in a good place, literally and mentally, but I can't wait for my sentence to end so I can hug you again. Don't blame yourself for not being able to visit, your health matters more than anything else._

_I love you dearly,_

_Makoto_

**19 years old**

Makoto’s not addicted to smoking. _Definitely not addicted._ But no matter how many cigarette butts drop to the ground, nothing seems to calm his nerves. He’s finally out of jail and the next step, which should be to find a job, seems to be slightly harder than expected.

The young adult groans into his pillow before looking at his right hand holding his phone- the screen showing a lack of emails for all the resumes he’s sent, and the few deleted ones that all refused his application. 

He’s not surprised most people don’t want to hire a criminal- an innocent one, but no one believes him. However, he thought he’d get at least _one_ offer. He doesn’t want to worry his mother but with his time in jail, all his money put aside has been spent for the hospital and the future bills will begin piling up.

He’s _this_ close to giving up, and then, almost by a miracle, the sound of a notification pulls him out of his daze. A new email. He opens it and to say he’s shocked is an understatement. The place is a hair salon. And… _they want him_. He’ll get constantly misgendered and deadnamed, granted, but he has a job and something he already has experience thanks to his mum. He can’t wait to share the news with her. He hopes she’ll be proud.

**20 years old**

Makoto looks at his mother one last time, a cloth covering her face. He wants to hold her hand but is scared to discover whether it’ll still be warm or cold. He feels a pang in his chest, and while he’s not religious in any way, he hopes that she’s in a better place now.

He’s told by the executor that it will take a few months for everything to wrap up. He’s sad to have his mother gone but perhaps she was right. Even when she’s gone, she still finds ways to help him.

Before she passed away, he finally had enough of a budget to buy Testogel online. He remembers the emotional moment he shared with his mother, looking at the bottle that would change his life. So far the progress went slowly but surely, his voice dropping at the level of a boy only starting puberty. A few hairs here and there. 

He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide it forever from his coworkers and with his body frozen in fear, he received mixed but overall alright responses from his coming out. He has a job and if that means avoiding the looks of some people, he can live with that.

He had a few days off of work to mourn, rightfully so, and the next week he was back on his feet behind his chair.

His shift is almost done, and as he prefers working late, he’s the only one left in the salon. As he disinfects his combs and blades, a middle-aged man enters.

“Do you uh, have a place for me?” the man asks, giving off a weird vibe Makoto just can’t seem to put his finger on. 

The brunette looks at the clock. “I’d have one last spot for you, yeah,” he forces a smile on his face. “I’m Makoto. Please, make yourself comfortable.” The client slowly installs himself at his chair. He reeks of cigarettes. At least Makoto has the decency of keeping himself clean. “What can I do for you today?”

“Could you give me a shave with one of those fancy blades?” The man asks him. 

“Absolutely!” Makoto fakingly cheers, placing a warm towel on the client’s face. He’s having this gut feeling but at least at the moment, the client has to stay mute. A few moments later, as he’s applying shaving cream, the man speaks up.

“So it’s true, you’re one of those kinds.”

Makoto tilts his head, confused, before slowly gliding his straight razor across the client’s cheek. “I’m not sure what you mean, I’m afraid.”

“I heard from a person,” the man starts, “about a guy working in a hair salon looking particularly feminine.”

The young adult stops for a second, keeping a cool face, before continuing, “I’m sure you’re aware some of us don’t have all the luck on the genetic wheel. I just happen to take more after my mother,” he explains nonchalantly, ignoring how his palms are becoming sweaty.

“Now, that’s the thing. A friend of mine is a regular here, you see, and he remembers you looking different and being called another name… hmm, what was it… **Maeko**?”

Shit. Oh _fuck._ He slipped up and now there’s a guy possibly wanting to harm him.

“Funny thing you mention that! You see, Maeko is my cousin and we both work here. She even helped me secure this job. Ever since we were little, everyone said we looked alike since both our mothers are twins. I think your friend must have confused her for me.” He hopes the lie is convincing. His heart is beating as if it’s about to burst out of his chest.

The man, however, doesn’t seem to buy it. “Such a shame to mutilate that body. All you’d need is a man to fuck you nicely to put everything back together.” Makoto grinds his teeth as he feels a hand on his ass.

“Are you sure that’s a smart thing to say when you have a blade at your neck?” he mutters, eyes cold.

“As if a pretty young lady could do me har-” 

Makoto drops the straight razor as the man chokes on his blood. His body freezes until a few seconds later when reality hits him harshly.

Oh god. Shitshitshit _shitshit._

He starts hyperventilating before hastily taking a towel and absorbing the blood. He lets out a strangled cry as even more blood spills out on the floor. He runs to take a bundle of towels until a major part of the floor is covered by them. Looking at his shaking hands, he wipes the blood off on his jeans before taking his phone to call an old contact. It rings twice before the other man picks up.

“I-I… Kudo, I… oh god, I need your help. P-please...”

**And now**

“ _Condensed milk?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Makoto's first short haircut as the undercut from case 2, except he decides to keep it.
> 
> Also please note that this yearly format is for this chapter only!!! I wanted that "snapshot in every year" effect and if that wasn't your thing, I'm sorry and that won't be there again. I'll be rewatching the whole series so uh.. buckle up kiddos
> 
> I feel like I wanted to say something else but I forgot... oh well, have a nice day!
> 
> Wait I reMEMBER NOW. I'm not sure what my upload schedule will be, so I apologise for possible slow uploads
> 
> Oh and I wasn't sure about the title, so let me know if you have a better suggestion


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys really gave me the confidence to continue and I might have,,,, written all day long so here's another chapter as a.. gift? yeah, an early Christmas gift.

“Thank you very much for contacting us,” Makoto says, in a house he assumes belongs to a sweet old lady. “We’re the ones most affected by those water bureau imposters.”

“I realised right away that this is what the flyer mentioned!” Shi-won smoothly lies.

“I can’t believe they’re using water contamination to target elderly people,” he adds with an appalled look.

“Don’t look down on elderly folk. We have more life experience~” Makoto doesn’t miss how she blows dust off a cup. “What was that part about increasing contamination?” She looks at Makoto with almost a challenging aura.

“Right. Sometimes the water processing plant can’t keep up.” _Something’s off about this,_ he thinks. “Looks like you’re fine! It’s within range.” He pulls out a smile.

“Within range?” Shi-won continues.

“Yes. There’s no immediate effect on the body, so don’t worry.”

“No immediate effect?” she adds. Makoto suppresses a grin as she starts buying into it but keeps his charming façade.

“It’s within a range that’s deemed safe by the law.” 

“Would it be harmful to a one-year-old? My daughter often comes by with my grandkid.” _There we gooo._

“If it worries you that much,” he goes towards his bag, “this filter can remove 99.9 percent of the water’s harmful substances. Buuut it’s a little pricey.” Makoto flashes an empathetic smile.

“You can’t put a price tag on your health.”

After they finish the transaction, as Makoto is at the threshold of the house, a detail picks his interest. She claims to live alone yet there are men’s clothing in the wardrobe and as for women’s clothing, they're clearly not her size, along with pet accessories and not one to be seen. If you add the unused cups, it starts making sense. 

“I think you best get going before they arrive here,” he finishes, saluting her with a wink. He notices her eyebrows raising in surprise.

* * *

“Gosh, that grandma was so suspicious of me though,” Kudo complains while Makoto is buying a capsule toy.

“It was a trap.”

“A trap?!” he shockingly exclaims.

“She doesn’t reside in the house, most likely the owners aren’t aware of that either. She still ended up paying us, which is what confuses me. What’s her motive, mhm…” he scratches his chin. “Anyway, here, good work.” He gives a capsule to his coworker.

“Thanks!” Kudo pats his shoulder. “Edamura-kun, you’re a genius. Figuring all that stuff on your own.”

“It’s just about being observant but I guess I am~” He chuckles at himself. He never expected to become cocky in the future. 

He inserts another coin in the machine and after turning the switch, he cries in surprise. “Wow, look!” He shows it to Kudo. “It’s Hideyoshi Toyotomi! It’s a sign I’ll take over the country!”

* * *

Makoto’s cleaning his condo -his _own_ now, thanks to his mother- when he receives a text from Kudo.

**_was just eating lunch at the usual place when a tourist sat next to me_ **

**_think you could do your magic?_ **

_omw right now_

Well, cleaning’s gonna have to wait.

* * *

When Kudo said there was a tourist, he didn’t expect said tourist to make his heart skip a beat. He felt the sudden need to make sure he passes as male. Pretty people just had to make him self-conscious. No matter, he wasn’t about to refuse the opportunity to make money.

“すみません、これを落としましたね,” he says to the gorge- very ordinary-looking blond man. He doesn’t seem to understand Japanese so he repeats it in English this time. “Excuse me, you dropped this.” Makoto shows him the wallet.

“Oh là là~ It seems my eyes have been blessed by your presence.” The foreigner winks at him as Makoto feels his cheeks burning.

“I... t-think you should check inside,” he manages to speak, thanking the gods that Kudo can’t understand what the blond said. His breath hitches as he feels the other man caressing his hand only for a few seconds before taking the wallet. 

The tall man lets out a surprised sound when discovering the content inside. 

“Isn’t it yours?” Makoto brings back his swindler persona and tilts his head innocently.

“Oh, it’s mine!” Kudo exclaims, thankfully improvising well in this situation, as he tries to take the wallet for himself. The brunette acts astounded and takes back the wallet despite the older man’s complaints. “Hey, give it back! I dropped that.”

“I’ll take it to the police,” he retorts.

“I told you it’s mine.” The foreigner looks completely uninterested in what’s happening, they need a better strategy. Makoto discreetly shoots a look at his coworker. “Fine, you want a reward? I’ll give you ten percent.”

“Ehhh, I guess it could be better...” he says uninterested. 

“Ugh, how about 2,000 yen?” Kudo grumbles as he takes out money.

“It’s mine, that’s my wallet. Here’s your reward.” The Frenchman hands 30,000 yen with a smile that makes Makoto’s insides melt.

The young adult acts hesitant before handing him the wallet. “O-okay.”

“Thank you.” The blond man hugs him and Makoto suddenly panics because _what if he feels his binder?_ He suppresses the urge to hug the taller man back, softly pushing him away and with a confused look, watches the handsome stranger walking away. He mentally shakes his head and reaches for the other wallet in his pocket.

“Oh, what a waste.” Kudo eagerly eats the foreigner’s leftovers.

* * *

“Speaking English so fluently must be nice~” the older man sighs.

“My old lessons just pop into my head,” Makoto smugly responds, making tea.

“I bet the newspaper bills inside gave him a shock,” Kudo adds with a laugh.

“Tourists are loose with their money and assume Japan is safe. Jokes on them, crime is everywhere! Even in Japan. It’s far from a perfect country, everyone here acts like they have a stick shoved up their ass, and the blatant discrimination- uhh sorry, I got a bit carried away,” he nervously chuckles.

“As expected of someone born in the 90s. You people are on the way to create a revolution!” The other man declares.

Makoto snorts before adding, “As for the trick I just pulled off, what you gotta do is let them hold the wallet. Humans don’t like to let go of things once they have them.” He pours the tea in two cups.

“You’re definitely the number one swindler in Japan! Oh, thanks.” Kudo happily accepts the cup. “And such exquisite skill.”

“I.. guess so.” You’re bound to pick up a thing or two when you hang out late in the streets with the “wrong” crowd. Makoto examines the other’s wrist. “Kudo, that’s a nice watch.”

“Oh, this? Things have been going well since I teamed up with you.” Makoto winces as he remembers the situation that made them reconnected. A _messy_ situation.

“Don’t get a big head living stylishly,” he remarks with a smirk.

“Right, because your hobby is living cheaply,” Kudo teases.

“ _Ouch,_ ” he dramatically holds his heart with an offended gasp, “You don’t get it, capsule toys have a certain charm…” He stops in the middle of his sentence, blinking twice to make sure he didn’t hallucinate _newspaper bills._

“Is something wrong?” his coworker asks, slightly concerned.

Makoto drops the carefully cut newspaper rectangles on the mat with a deadpan expression. He pinches himself. Yep, he felt it. 

“T-THAT FUCKING HANDSOME BLOND BASTARD,” he angrily screams, gripping after his hair. “Using his fucking seduction trick on me so that he can make me drop my fucking guard and easily steal the fucking money- fuck you, you fucking fuck,” Makoto breathes in frustration. 

They both look at each other with a ‘we’re fucked’ look when they hear the sound of cars stopping at Makoto’s condo. Makoto makes a crack in the window for sneaking purposes.

“Yikes, it’s the cops,” Kudo anxiously whispers.

“Fuck. What do we do? Can we wait it out? Are they aware of you-know-what?!” He grabs everything close to him in panic.

“We have to split up and run,” the other informs him. “But to where?”

“How about the rooftop- shit, no time to think!” He runs to the other window and grabs the metal bars, descending.

“Edamura-kun, stay safe!” Kudo last tells him, hiding in the closet- _ha_ , he would laugh if he wasn’t in a serious situation. 

“Yeah, you too.” He tries balancing himself as he half-runs on a metal tube, finally reaching his neighbours’ balconies and jumps over the sad excuse of a fence. He should be in the clear. He got this- wait a fucking minute.

Makoto’s body does a whiplash when he notices a certain blond bastard getting in a taxi. He guns it and quickly gets in the vehicle, ignoring the driver’s look.

“I’m going the same way, so let’s share the ride!” Truth be told, he’s too relieved to be angry at the Frenchman. 

“Thanks a lot~” The other waves around the wallet. Makoto takes it back. He’s back to being very angry but for the sake of not getting kicked out, he keeps his cool.

“You’re…” he starts, “How did you take my wallet?”

Embarrassment surfaces as the blond laughs, probably because of his accent.

“What are you talking about? It was you who said it was my wallet.” And he dares wink at him again.

“詐欺師でもある...” he mutters to himself.

“I’m afraid I don’t speak your beautiful language,” the foreigner admits.

“You’re a scammer, right?” Makoto asks, trying not to get lost in his blue eyes.

“Nope, I’m a trader,” he corrects him, flashing a smile. He picks up a pack of candy -Sakura Magic, Makoto recognises- and drops it into his bag. “If that wasn’t enough, keep this. Pretty tasty, that thing.”

Makoto sighs and rests his head against his palm. “Where are we headed?” he asks. 

“To the airport and then to LA.” Makoto feels like he’s being watched and his face flushes red. 

_Los Angeles, huh? Skipping town now isn’t a bad idea, considering if they brought me in for investigation they could possibly find out about_ that _. Who knew running away from murder wasn’t easy?_ He chuckles under the curious gaze of the other man. 

_Thankfully I brought my fake passport and an almost new bottle of Testogel but getting a new prescription could prove to be bothersome. God, I hope that passport works, it definitely wasn’t cheap._ Anxiety starts settling in and Makoto unconsciously bites his nails. He doesn’t miss the look the blond gives him.

_Why did the cops show up? Did someone rat us out? Did we leave a trail? Were there witnesses? Are they just waiting to catch me to put me back in jail?_ His breathing becomes erratic and his heartbeat quadruples. His chest feels caged from his binder and he tries swallowing to ease his suddenly dry throat. His body starts feeling numb and black spots fill his vision. He thinks the driver is asking him something but his hearing is the same as if he was underwater. He feels himself being carried out of the taxi and fresh air hits his face. Someone helps him sit on the ground and softly lays him down, still keeping an arm under his head for comfort. Makoto slowly relaxes from the hand caressing his cheek and his vision clears up, showing the worried face of a blond man. 

The brunette weakly smiles and tries standing up. The other man stops him as he speaks up, “Woah, tout doux, tout doux. We don’t want you to faint.”

“Where… where‘m I…?” Makoto weakly mumbles.

“Not far from the airport. Luckily it’s easy to walk from here. I think we should introduce ourselves, I’m Laurent.” His smile is so bright it could blind him.

“ _Roran_ …” Makoto blushes as he hears Laurent laugh for how many times today? Well, it’s not a sound he minds.

“T’es trop mignon. Come, I’ll give you a piggyback ride,” the man insists.

“I dunno what you said but m’name’s Edamura.” Makoto climbs on the other’s back, totally not smelling him.

Maybe he doesn’t hate the man so much anymore.

“Eda- Edamame?”

“Eda _mura.”_

“Nah, Edamame’s easier to pronounce.”

He hates him. Him and his surprisingly caring heart and soft underneath. He… He hates him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: maybe i should make it a slow burn
> 
> me a few hours later: sIKE
> 
> not that I'm out of ideas (for once I'm not sarcastic) but if you guys have suggestions or want something particular, don't hesitate to let me know :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've made the playlist makoto listens on the plane which you can find [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6FZDIqgpYvYKisRkLEa9Vp?si=Ke7XneL1RvOBJGG8YSyn0w)
> 
> i also noticed while writing this chapter that makoto really behaves like a cat

Makoto sees the edge of the airport and happily cheers, clinging tightly after Laurent. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he enjoys the physical contact. However, he’s been craving a smoke for hours, and he’s ready to rip his hair out. 

“I’m gonna start walking if you don’t mind.” _‘if you don’t mind???’ Since when do you care about what he thinks. Stupid blond man._ He reaches for his lighter and his trusty pack of Malboro, ignoring the somewhat judgemental look from Laurent. “Got something to say?” Makoto tempts him, cigarette in mouth.

“I simply believed you were the type to try and live a long life,” the Frenchman adds. “And I c- it would be a shame to lose you so soon.”

Makoto snorts, teasingly blowing smoke at the other, enjoying how his face scrunches. “I would probably die before cancer gets me. Like, getting stabbed in an alleyway or a bullet piercing me. It’s the risk that comes with the job,” he shrugs.

“I admire your… stoicism. Ah, you should probably take this.” The taller man offers Makoto a few money bills.

“Wow, that’s oddly sweet of you. Um.. thank you, wait- I have to… discard a few things before we enter.” Laurent raises an eyebrow at that. 

Makoto reaches for his phone and taps the contact named “Hatchet” and waits for the man to pick up. 

“Yo, wassup bro? Don’t tell me you killed someone else already,” an American accent says.

“Nahhh bro, no one on my list… yet,” they both laugh, and Laurent looks confused already. “I think you’re near the airport on Wednesdays, yeah?”

“That’s right, so why did you ca- oh shit, is that you bro?”

Makoto sees a figure in the crowd waving at him and he waves back, widely grinning. “Yeah bro, come here! Wait wait wait, let’s do the run.” 

They run in fake slow-motion, dramatically reaching out to each other before Makoto explodes of laughter, hugging the other man with one arm. “It’s good to see you, bro,” Hatchet says, hooking one arm around the brunette’s neck and ruffling his head with the other. 

“I really appreciate you being here, I kinda need you to hang onto some stuff." 

Makoto removes his shoes to pick two razor blades, then reaches out to his pants and takes a switchblade out of his waistband and unhooks a necklace with a hidden dagger. "Mon Dieu, you're certainly not lacking protection," Laurent expresses. 

"You can never be too careful." Makoto grins and gives the content to Hatchet. "It was nice seeing you bro but I gotta go to L.A. now."

"Take care brother, that pale ass of yours will die under the Californian sun." They hug one last time before Makoto and Laurent enter the airport.

Makoto also met Hatchet thanks to his misadventure. The American chose his name since he’s good at burying… well, you can guess. The young adult never thought he’d become friends with someone who looked so intimidating and yet, a bromance blossomed between the two of them. Hatchet never asked questions he was uncomfortable answering, always respecting his privacy and that’s something Makoto values very much. 

“So… who was that?” Laurent finally asks, curious.

“Hatchet, he’s a friend. A really good friend. We only met last year but… yeah, we’re brothers,” Laurent nods at that and doesn’t ask more.

Makoto starts sweating when the staff scans his passport, anxiously drumming his fingers on his leg. His last name shown on his ID is obviously not Edamura and he hopes Laurent doesn’t mention it, not that he can even pronounce it properly. The few seconds feel like hours and he can’t stop himself from thinking of the worst scenarios. 

“Your flight to Los Angeles will be in an hour.” The woman smiles giving back his credentials. He suppresses a sigh of relief and runs to Laurent who’s starting to walk away. They easily go through security and have 45 minutes to waste. 

“Should we get something to drink?” Makoto proposes to the Frenchman.

“A coffee date already, huh?” Laurent enjoys seeing the brunette get flustered.

“I- well- it’s just- if you’re thirsty… besides you’re not even that good-looking,” he huffs, crossing his arms and looking away.

“My, you’ve got such a cute face when you pout~” Makoto buries his face into his hands, groaning. 

“Starbucks, yes or no?” Makoto asks, ignoring how his cheeks are burning.

“With pleasure.”

* * *

“I didn’t expect the date thing to be serious,” Makoto states as they’re both sitting across a table, the dimmed lights somehow creating a romantic atmosphere in an airport. He’s not used to feeling this way, his heart beating strongly and knots forming in his stomach. 

“Let’s just say you’ve picked my interest.” _Ah, of course. I interest him but he’s not interested_ in _me. Not like anyone could be…_ Almost to prove him wrong, Laurent slides his hand across the table and intertwines their fingers together, earning a shocked expression from Makoto. “Tell me more about yourself,” the blond softly says.

“I.. um…” am a criminal, have crippling dysphoria, my self-esteem’s so low you’d need a microscope to find it and I’ve got very big daddy issues _._ “I-I…”

“I was born in Bruxelles,” Laurent starts, “as a kid, I wanted to become a diplomat, but unfortunately my mother got tricked into signing a contract that transferred all of her savings to a nasty man. I tried to kill him, got recruited into the con life and here I am.”

“My mother’s sperm donor abandoned us when I was thirteen, later we discovered he was involved in child trafficking and my mother… she didn’t take it well, physically. I miss her…” He imagines for a second that the hand he’s holding is hers and almost hears his nickname.

“So, both our mothers passed away and our fathers abandoned us. That’s already something in common.” Laurent chuckles, staring at the eyes in front of him.

“I-” Makoto looks away embarrassed, “I’ve never been in a relationship before, or even kissed someone...”

“Are you telling me this because you want your first with me?” Laurent says with a shit-eating grin.

“Ew, n-no way!” Makoto suddenly stands up, grabbing the blond’s sleeve. “Let’s just get to our plane.”

“This was your idea!” Laurent can’t help but laugh at the smaller man’s endeavour, letting himself get dragged.

* * *

Makoto’s never been in a plane before but he’s more excited than nervous. He needed to ask Laurent’s help to buckle his seatbelt, the embarrassment. He would have punched him if they weren’t in an aeroplane. _He would have._

They take off and shortly after, Makoto’s eyes widen in wonder as he watches the clouds being so close to him. “It’s like you’re a little kid,” Laurent exclaims, snorting.

The Japanese man pulls out his tongue, clearly a show of maturity, and leans back against his seat. He pulls out his phone and struggles to untangle his earphones for a good minute before plugging them. He selects a city pop playlist and silently offers an earbud at his seatmate. The latter gladly accepts the offer, both men relaxing to Plastic Love.

Today’s events have tired him quite a bit and with 11 hours to kill, all he wants is to get a bit of sleep. The brunette eyes Laurent’s shoulder and, without any warning, rests on the taller man. He’ll blame himself later for that but it’s for future Makoto to deal with. Soon enough he dozes off and barely registers the hand petting his head. _This feels really nice,_ he thinks, before succumbing to sleep.

* * *

He wakes up 3 hours later, hissing as his body protests from his weird position. He feels a weight on him and this time, it’s Laurent who’s resting on him. Okay, _maybe_ he finds him cute but there’s no way in all the 7 realms he’ll admit it to the man. Instead, he can simply admire the older man as he’s sleeping.

He looks peaceful, softly breathing on him. His lips are partially open, what would they feel on his own… Makoto flushes at the thought, mentally shaking his head. He looks outside, the sky now dark. He sighs as boredom starts taking over. 

* * *

“Hey, sleeping beauty," Makoto teases an hour later as Laurent stirs and opens one eye.

“Does that make you my prince charming?” the other adds with a small smirk.

“Do you have like, an off switch for the flirting?” 

“You know you like it~”

Makoto doesn’t disagree. _It’s been pretty boring without you,_ he wants to say.

\--------

Thank the gods Makoto can finally get fresh air. His whole body is aching, especially his chest from his stupid binder who acts more like an instrument of torture. 

“Ahh, so this is Los Angeles,” he looks around, absorbing the new decor. He follows Laurent to a parking lot and watches the man enter a car. He doesn’t know much about them but he’s pretty sure it’s an expensive kind.

“Well, are you coming in?” the Frenchman asks him.

“O-Oh, I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to join…” Makoto fidgets, looking down.

“Of course, Edamame. You and I have formed a bond!” He taps the passenger seat and Makoto obliges.

It doesn’t take long for them to be stuck in traffic and Makoto lets out a whine. “So why are we here?” he questions, trying to make conversation and forget his discomfort.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” the man responds and turns on the radio.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Makoto pouts.

“So cute,” Laurent adds and Makoto wants to scream.

_“Movie producer Eddie Cassano was released on bail for one million dollars,”_ a man on the radio announces. _“I’ve worked myself to the bone to expand this country’s entertainment industry. The charges this time-”_

“What movie was he famous for?” Makoto asks, cutting off Eddie Cassano.

“The Razzie Series.” 

Well, he’s still as clueless. “I don’t know it,” the Japanese man replies, crossing his arms behind his head. “So, is this the man we’re swindling?”

“We?”

“Well- I-” Makoto stutters, and he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay. That’s why you’re here, after all,” Laurent sends him a warm smile. “Will you be my partner in crime?”

“I do.” Makoto slowly smiles back.

“Well then, let’s get ourselves suited up!”

* * *

They head to a store called Macy’s. Makoto assumes it’s a popular chain in America. He feels self-conscious about his height but the retailer manages to find something with his measurements. As he goes into the changing room, he’s finally able to remove his binder and lets out a breath of relief. He hisses as he touches his ribs. _Good job Makoto, you’ve already been wearing your binder for 16 hours. Why don't you fuck up your lungs?_ He can only try massaging them in the meantime, and still not for long as to not alert Laurent. 

After putting on everything, he checks himself in the mirror and can’t help but remember that first day to school with a male uniform. This time, however, testosterone had time to do its wonder and he actually feels euphoric.

“You look like a geek rather than an intellectual,” Laurent remarks in the back. 

Makoto has his breath taken as he sees the blond man in a suit. “Wow…” He immediately slaps a hand over his mouth, his face flushing. 

Laurent watches him with an amused look. He walks over the smaller man. “Your tie is crooked.” He carefully rearranges it, bringing their face closer until their nose almost touch. He turns Makoto around so they both face the mirror. Wrapping his arms around the brunette’s waist, he breathes on his neck before whispering next to his ear, “Now you look perfect~” Laurent licks his lips as the smaller man lets out a moan. As much as he enjoys this, they need to get back to business and so he clears his throat to break the tension.

Makoto’s whole body is on fire and he thought for a moment he would die. How dare the blond bastard be so... so stunning. 

\---------

“WOAH! This is huge!” Makoto exclaims, staring at the mansion in front of him. “Oh shit, they’re coming.” He quickly fixes himself as he notices the gang members approaching. 

“Hola amigos! How are you?” Laurent expresses, widely gesturing.

“I don’t remember being friends with some French guy.” A tall man, and strong, by the looks of it, replies.

“Aller, fais pas ton timide,” the blond tries sweet-talking. “Open up, I’ve brought samples.” He shares a look with Makoto and wraps an arm around him. “This is my friend from Japan. He’s shy. It seems he wants to hang out with a big guy like you.”

Makoto bows before adding, “It would be an honour.”

The sweet-talking must have worked since the brawny man decided to open the gate. “Gracias, amigos~” Laurent speaks, still having an arm around the Japanese man, stroking his arm.

The brunette tries to keep his mouth closed as he spots the luxurious items. The man in a pink blazer seems to guide them outside. He would be lying to say he wasn’t nervous at all and when his hand brushes against Laurent’s, the latter gives him a reaffirming squeeze.

Makoto gulps when he notices the humongous amount of attractive women, suddenly feeling like an ant. Then his eyes travel to a middle-aged man laying on a beach chair. “Oh, that’s Cassano, right?” he asks Laurent, turning to face him.

“He’s part of the Hollywood mafia and is only a producer by name.” 

“Can’t say I’ve worked with the mafia before but I suppose there’s a first for everything,” Makoto slightly chuckles.

“And when is it that I can be your first something?” the blond teases, earning the other to playfully punch him.

“So,” the brunette clears his throat, “what is it you’ll be selling him?”

Laurent unzips his bag and Makoto wants to scream because there are certain _private_ things in there. Luckily, it doesn’t seem the Frenchman saw anything other than the Sakura Magic pack. “This,” he starts, “is what I’ll be selling him. Sakura Magic, the new drug on the market that’s making all the rage.” 

Mouth agape as Laurent grins at him, Makoto responds, “That’s… wow, that’s a bold move...” He stops when the producer approaches them.

“You’ve been through hell, Eddie.” The Frenchman sits next to Cassano.

“The cells are nice once in a while,” Cassano replies, “and it seems you’ve got quite the luck with your boyfriend.”

_Oh_ , this is interesting. Makoto decides to play along and sits on Laurent’s lap, laying his head on his shoulder and brushes his lips against his ear. He hears the latter’s breath itch and oh, does payback feel nice now. Laurent strokes his thigh and Makoto tries ignoring how fast his heart is beating. 

“Having a doctor as a boyfriend certainly has its perks. Especially when Hollywood is deteriorating to no end and this one can make a little something to make people happy again,” the blond pets his head.

“Oh, you’ve got me intrigued. Abbie, get us some champagne!” Eddie demands. Makoto observes the figure getting out of the pool. “She’s pretty, but she's an idiot when she speaks.”

“She’s pretty charming. Maybe she’ll walk the red carpet someday,” Laurent adds with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Ah! Her acting is awful and she can’t speak English. Training her to sing and dance might be better.”

The woman looks at Makoto and he has a feeling she’s in the same team as them. He leaves Laurent’s warmth and bows in front of the producer. “Hello, it’s nice to meet you Cassano-san.” He sends the older man a warm smile.

“Isn’t his English quite good?” Laurent praises and Makoto feels something new. _I hope this doesn’t awaken anything in me._

“You’re fairly young.” The brunette tries not to feel intimidated by the stare of Eddie.

“He’s always mistaken for a high schooler.” the Frenchman responds with a laugh.

“And he’s the one that made the goods?” the producer questions. 

“Only the best for you, sir,” Makoto flashes his best smile.

“Here’s the raw material.” Laurent shows a small ziplock bag with white power.

The Japanese man receives champagne from the possible ally and a part of his brain wants to down it. However, there’s also the possibility of something being in it and Makoto isn’t ready to take that risk.

“Abbie, you wanna try it?” the producer offers to the girl.

“Can I really?” she exclaims excitedly.

“Wait, this is a special recipe. You’ll die if you inhale it like this.” the blond tells Abbie as she pouts. “That’s why it needs processing.”

“To make what?” Eddie pressures.

“Snorting and injection are things of the past.” He shakes the packet and gives a piece to the girl. “Open wide~”

“Laurent, no matter how much you mix into that candy, my customers won’t…” Cassano stops as he watches what unfolds next. 

Makoto deadpans as he watches Abbie’s… performance, whatever it is. Perhaps it’s a _little_ bit too extra. She giggles then fully cracks up, running and spinning and jumping and bouncing and finishes by jumping in the pool. At least, it definitely managed to surprise their victim. “Only with one piece of candy you can find such happiness, isn’t that right… darling?” Makoto tells Laurent with a sly smirk.

“Indeed, mon cher. This is the latest synthetic drug created by Japan, a leading country in pharmaceutics. It’s magic, or you could say ‘Sakura Magic’,” the blond claims. “Eddie, I’ll sell exclusively to you. The wholesale price for a pack of 1,000 is 10,000 dollars. Including my boyfriend’s compensation, initial fee, and the exclusive contract fee, it’s five million dollars. In cash.”

Makoto can already smell the money and excitement fills his body. However, Eddie doesn’t seem to be interested in the price. That could escalate quickly. 

“That’s an absurd price,” the middle-aged man says.

“Since it’s an absurd drug,” Laurent smoothly adds, sitting again next to the man. 

Makoto joins in, “You can carry it around and there’s no worry about scarring or rhinitis. Urine tests can’t detect it.” He looks at his partner, winking.

“If we have an exclusive contract, celebrities from all over the world would buy it from you. And who can make it?” Laurent stands behind Makoto, placing his hands on the smaller man’s shoulders. “None other than my love, Dr Edamura, of course~”

Makoto might be enjoying this too much but turns around and traces a finger over the blond’s chest, looking up as he speaks, “You’re always so charming, dear.” Sue him for never having physical affection before. That, and he also enjoys seeing Laurent’s shocked expression.

The Frenchman faces the rest of the public to ask, “Is there anyone else who’d like to try?” Soon enough, a crowd gathers around them. “Open your mouth, Edamame,” Laurent whispers.

“Ahh~” he happily obeys and eats the candy. _Damn, these are actually pretty good._ _Should I act as crazy as Abbie or- wait a second, this watch… isn’t it the same as Kudo’s? And now that I think of it, that grandma also had the same- Oh. Ohhhhh._

With his mouth agape, Makoto giggles, looking at Laurent with amusement, before exploding of laughter. He rolls on the floor, clutching his stomach as his laughing echoes throughout the backyard. He wipes the tears off of his face, still slightly giggling, before releasing a long sigh and lays on the ground with a huge smile etched on his face.

“I take it we’ll meet again for the payment?” Laurent asks Eddie with a smirk.

“You’ve had me convinced, Thierry.”

Makoto watches as Laurent approaches him. “Carry me?” he asks with puppy eyes.

“Bien sûr, mon chou. Oh and Eddie, I’ll be borrowing Abbie if you don’t mind.” The taller man carries the brunette, bridal style. 

Makoto giggles again as they leave the venue, Abbie following them. He lifts his head to watch the sky. “What a day.”

“What a day indeed.” Laurent grins at him.

“Gross, get a fucking room you two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that mirror scene really needed more tension in the anime 
> 
> also!!! i can't draw but i made a picrew of Hatchet if you wanna see what he looks like [here](https://picrew.me/share?cd=dBmFTFz2OJ)
> 
> thank you so much to everyone who commented, you guys make my serotonin go brrrrr


	4. Chapter 4

“Could you go easy on that young girl over there?”

Makoto finds himself back when he was 17. Several men in black come in their office with an arrest warrant and seem to be familiar with Kudo.

“No way.”

He’s cooperative enough to only have handcuffs on him, although they weren’t exactly gentle while pushing him in the police car. He feels as if he’s watching himself from a third-person point of view, an auto-pilot mode put on him. He doesn’t remember being in an interrogation room and suddenly there’s a bright light facing him. They keep asking him questions and he keeps denying the charges. And yet, it’s almost as if they want him to be guilty. His father is somehow relevant to this case. 

For the remaining days, he only remembers bits and pieces. His mum cries, he rips apart his father’s picture, he’s in a courtroom and so many stares are on him. Makoto knows when he’s losing a battle and a part of him tells him to just plead guilty. Better to have a lighter charge than being proven guilty as he pleads innocent. And so he does.

Makoto becomes a number. He’s told when to eat, when to sleep and when to speak. He has zero privacy and barely enough recreation time. In those blessed moments, he discreetly exchanges conversations with Aneko. The name fits her as she starts feeling like an older sister, teaching him self defence tricks, how to hide weapons on his body or how to perform castration on a predator. One day he asks her to call him Makoto and he earns a pat on the shoulder. 

As more time passes, Aneko admits she has an escape plan. As much as Makoto is tempted, he refuses. He can’t be on the run when his mother only has him. And- and a few days later, he hears whispers that an inmate got caught trying to escape. Makoto never sees her again. And then-

Makoto wakes up.

* * *

_Earlier that day_

The trio head to a restaurant. Makoto doesn’t complain, feeling his stomach growling. He narrowly avoids bumping into a guy’s drink, blaming his hunger rather than his clumsiness. They decide- or rather, Laurent decides to order lobsters. “I hope you’ll be paying for this,” Makoto spouts to the blond.

“Why, of course, Edamame. I’d be a terrible host if I didn’t.” Laurent delicately inserts a knife into the lobster as Abbie abandons any silverware. “Make sure you chew well.” He stares at her with amusement.

“My broke ass is definitely thankful for that,” comments Makoto, also opting to use his hands. He suppresses a grin as he hears Laurent sigh. 

“Am I really the only civilised person at this table?” the Frenchman asks with a disappointed tone.

Abbie stares at Laurent before replying, “I think you might be, O’ noble grand cock.”

The brunette almost spits his drink and adds, “Careful there, that’s almost admitting he has a big dick energy.” Laurent pouts at that.

Abbie grins at him. “I like you already, Edamame.”

“Edamura.”

“Edamame.”

“ _Edamura_.”

“Children, please,” Laurent interrupts with a false condescending air. They go back to eating, still occasionally throwing playful insults.

* * *

Laurent guides them to a room in a 5-star hotel and Makoto settles in on the couch. The blond offers him a glass of champagne and this time he gladly accepts it, silently inviting the other to join him on the couch. As Laurent sits next to him, the brunette takes a sip, enjoying the warm feeling in his oesophagus. 

“Hey Laurent,” He earns the attention of the man. “I figured earlier that Kudo and the elderly woman were on it, but the cops… was that also your doing?” The brunette nervously bites his lips.

“It was also part of the plan, yes. Is everything alright?” the Frenchman asks as Makoto discards his drink to hug his knees.

“Please… don’t do that again.” An uncomfortable silence makes its presence. 

“I’m sorry, Edamura. If I caused you any pain... let me make it up to you.” Makoto’s eyes widen in surprise. “I know, I can be nice when I want to.” He offers an apologetic smile and the Japanese man huffs.

“It’s weird when you’re nice, go back to being an asshole.” Makoto cracks a smile, taking back his glass to drink the full content in one go. “By the way, where’s Abbie?”

“In her room but I wouldn’t disturb her if I was you. She cherishes her private time,” Laurent warns Makoto, “Well, I should probably head out too.”

“Wait-” The smaller man grabs Laurent's sleeve, legs slightly wobbly. _Stay with me._ “G-Goodnight,” he murmurs instead. A hand ruffles his hair.

“Don’t look so sad Edamame, I’m only a room away,” Laurent reassures the other, enjoying the soft feeling of his locks.

Makoto nods before they part ways. The brunette heads to the only room with a door still open. Immediately after closing his door, he almost rips open his shirt, removing his binder as soon as he can. He coughs a few times, noticing the way his chest is burning. He doubts a hotel would have heating pads or pain medicine. A whine escapes his lips as he touches his ribs. His only solution is to tough it out.

He opts to wear the only oversized sweatshirt he brought and as he dislikes pyjama pants -not that he even has a pair- he decides to stick to his briefs. 

He slowly crawls under the covers of his bed, jetlag suddenly hitting him. _It’s just a crush. A stupid crush that will only end up hurting you._ He hugs his pillow before hissing and turning on his back as the pain spreads out. Makoto sighs, looking at the ceiling. _It’s not like someone could actually have feelings for me. **Stop thinking- you need to rest**. Like, look at yourself- _**_stop it_** _\- no one could possibly be attracted to that-_ **_I said stop thinking you fucking piece of shit_** _\- he has such a perfect body and you’re just… ew. **I know that, I fucking hate myself. Happy? So leave me alone**. Yeah, that’s right, you just gotta accept you’ll be forever alone._

Makoto closes his eyes, eagerly awaiting to be in the arms of Morpheus.

* * *

Makoto wakes up drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. He grabs his clothes, realising they’re not a prison uniform. “Fuck,” he mutters, trying to slow down his breathing. He grabs his phone and sees the clock showing 3:13 A.M. He groans as he knows sleep won’t come back easily. 

He goes to the bathroom, emptying his bladder then heads out to the living room. He stops in his tracks, admiring the city lights from the giant window. Breaking out of his daze, he spots the teapot and walks towards it but not until he hits the table’s corner. “Ow, fuck, shit, motherfucker,” he angrily whispers, holding his waist.

“Edamame?”

Makoto freezes like a statue.

“Abbie?!” He sees the woman laying on the couch and only now notices the weird smell. “Is that… weed?”

“Cute outfit you’ve got.” Makoto feels himself blush. “And yeah, I just… couldn’t sleep so…” she finishes by shrugging.

He sits next to her, eyeing the blunt in her hand. “I couldn’t sleep either,” he admits, laying back on the couch. Something nudges his shoulder and he turns his head to see Abbie handing him the blunt. “Aren’t we gonna wake up Laurent?”

“Pfft,” she snorts, “the guy could sleep through a fire alarm.”

_Why the hell not._ He takes a long hit, staring at the girl next to him. “So how did you meet Laurent?”

“Well uh… I don’t wanna share the whole thing but,” she pauses, “I was a soldier.”

“Woah,” Makoto exclaims, taking another hit and offering the blunt to Abbie.

“A fucking child soldier.” She blows O’s and passes it to the Japanese man. “Things went to shit and I went AWOL, stumbled upon the french bastard and I ended up sticking around.” Makoto takes a third hit and already starts feeling mellow. “We’ve got a lightweight over here,” she teases, playfully pushing him.

“Gimme some slack,” he chuckles, “my last dealer tried datura and I guess that was it for him.”

“Shiiiiit, that thing is nasty.” They look at each other and Makoto giggles.

“I shouldn’t be laughing,” he snickers, covering his mouth as if that would stop him. Abbie joins him as she starts wheezing.

* * *

“And you know, what’s great with weed,” Makoto beams, arms gesturing in the air while he’s laying on the woman’s lap, “is that if you overdose on it… um, your mind…”

“You don’t die,” Abbie joins, nodding.

“Yeah! You’re dragged through your own personal neurosis-”

“Inner weaknesses, fears,” she interrupts.

“People say they’re feeling paranoid,” he continues, closing his eyes.

“But what they actually mean is-”

“The marijuana is showing all these parts of myself that I don’t necessarily wanna deal with right now.” 

“Exactly!” Abby exclaims, “And I hate this idea of good and bad drugs.”

Makoto excitedly nods. “It just… exists. And it’s the relationship we have with the substance… that’s the issue.”

“So smart~” She grins at the man.

“The quantity, how often you take it, what you took before… that can be the difference between life and death.” Makoto clarifies.

“So basically, just- inform yourself on whatever you wanna take so you do it safely.”

“We _so_ get each other, Abbie...” His eyelids start feeling heavy. He switches for a more comfortable position and closes his eyes.

“I’ll keep your secret, you know?” She reassures him.

“Secret? What are y…” he pauses, “wuh…” he tries finishing but sleep takes him.

* * *

“You guys smoked without me?” a french accent accuses at them.

Makoto cracks one eye open, meeting the gaze of a blond man and he unconsciously covers his chest. “Oh… I’m sorry Laurent, we’ll be sure to let you know next time.”

“You better, now chop chop!” He loudly claps his hands, likely trying to wake up Abbie who’s still sleeping. “We’ve got five million to collect.” He smiles at the brunette.

Makoto grins back in excitement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was basically an excuse to make Makoto bond with Abbie
> 
> sorry not sorry


	5. Chapter 5

“Is that the safe keeper's car?” Abbie questions as they see a black vehicle approaching Cassano’s mansion.

“It must be money for the candy,” Laurent responds with a pensive look, laying on one of the beach chairs.

“Five fucking million dollars,” Makoto mumbles, still not believing it.

“Well shit.” The Japanese man turns to face Abbie. “It looks like he didn’t bring money.”

“Huh?!” _What the fuck is going on?_

“It seems you’re right,” the Frenchman agrees.

Makoto looks down to see Eddie and Salazar conversating with another man. They’re too far to hear anything. Then the three men all suddenly look at the swindlers and the brunette hides his face in Laurent's chest.

“We’ll get through this, little soybean.” The blond holds the other’s hand as Abbie cheerfully waves at the small group.

* * *

“Sorry, but the money isn’t here. Zapata is very cautious,” Eddie announces to them around a large table.

“It’s a big transaction, so being nervous is normal,” Laurent adds, standing behind Makoto and massaging his shoulders. “If you’re unsure, ask us anything.”

“Okay, I’ll ask. The name Edamura Makoto doesn’t show up in any of our searches,” Eddie claims, looking more intimidating.

Makoto feels himself starting to sweat, clenching his fist. “You see, I’m not a big fan of social media,” he tries clarifying.

Laurent nods. “Call him paranoid but he never shares anything personal online.”

“That’s what we thought, so we’re conducting final checks,” the producer declares, drinking from his glass. “We’ll get a report from Japan soon.”

Makoto tenses and his supposed boyfriend discreetly whispers, “Everything’s taken care of,” making the young adult slump back into his seat. 

Eddie’s phone rings. “How did it go?” he eagerly asks and Laurent watches him with amusement. “What? Is that true?” The producer looks at Makoto. “Got it, good work.”

The Japanese man is surprised to receive a hug from Eddie but welcomes it, pushing aside any fatherly thoughts.

“Welcome to the Cassano family, figlio.”

Makoto suppresses a groan. He just _had_ to say it. 

* * *

“Sorry for the wait. Now dig in, let’s celebrate!” Cassano exclaims and Makoto sighs in relief.

The young man looks at Laurent and mouths a ‘thank you’, earning a wink from the blond as he sits next to him.

“Anyway, I’m glad we have your trust. Now, about the payment…” Laurent takes a sip from his wine glass.

“I’d like to do the transaction elsewhere,” Cassano proposes.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Eddie,” the Frenchman praises, “I didn’t want to do it here either.”

Ah, right. The cops are spying on them. Makoto shivers and reaches for Laurent’s hand.

“Nice eye,” Eddie laughs. “It’s Detective Anderson from the LAPD. He has chased me for years.”

Makoto imitates a pig, making Abbie snicker. He ignores the glance from Laurent. _Maybe_ he can be a bit of a brat sometimes.

“It would be nice to do the transaction at a safe location.” Laurent takes a serving as Makoto and Abbie join. The blond picks a few lettuce leaves with his fork. “Open wide, darling,” he encourages, raising the fork to his partner’s mouth.

Makoto blushes, happily obliging. A mix of peppery, bitter and buttery flavour hits his mouth. He looks up to the other who apparently quite enjoys acting domestic. _Oh, this is dangerous._ Nevertheless, a part of him craves it and his hand moves to Laurent’s knee almost on its own. He sees from the corner of his eye the suspicious glare from Abbie.

Eddie chuckles from his seat. “You two remind me of when I started dating my husband. We just couldn’t keep our hands away from each other,” he exclaims, reminiscent.

Makoto blinks a few times. Did he hear that right? For some reason, he never conceived the thought that a mafia boss could possibly be gay. It certainly caught him by surprise.

“I- um- thank you, Cassano-san,” he stutters, feeling blood rush to his ears.

“Please, you’re family now. Call me padre.”

Makoto feels a warmth in his chest and wants to smash his head against the table.

* * *

“The idiot took the bait,” Eddie huffs in the passenger seat.

“It seems like he’s not a complete idiot.” Laurent looks behind, noticing the car following them.

“Will this be a car chase?” Abbie fervently asks, sharing a grin with Makoto as the other raises his fist into the air.

“You heard the lady, Salazar. Floor it!” Eddie grins along.

The driver stomps on the gas pedal, a tight grip on the steering wheel. The car behind them doesn’t easily give up, also accelerating. Salazar switches to the opposite lane, skillfully avoiding bushes and trees.

“Go faster,” Eddie requests and perhaps now Makoto feels a bit nervous. The honk of a truck loudly resonates, their car going straight into it. The brunette sees his life flashing before his eyes, strongly hugging Laurent as Abbie’s laughing echoes. Salazar promptly breaks, their car drifting and rotating to almost 90 degrees before steadily falling back on the road, narrowly avoiding the truck. The driver accurately faints a turn, making the car following them crash into a lamp. Makoto’s heart strongly beats, keeping his hold after Laurent. The latter wraps an arm around him.

“Are you okay, little soybean?” The blond asks, showing a concerned expression.

Makoto shakily breathes. “I’m just glad we survived, I would have had…” his eyes drift to Laurent’s lips, “many regrets.”

“Is that so?” The Frenchman smirks, inching closer. The brunette softly pants, his focus strictly on the man. _Hold your damn horses. Are you seriously about to have your first kiss while you’re uncomfortably squeezed in a car with a fucking mafia boss and cops following you?_ Makoto holds Laurent’s face and slightly tilts it, his lips brushing against stubbles then softly kisses his cheek. He slowly backs away, observing an expression he’s never seen on the blond before. The Frenchman strokes his cheek, Makoto leaning into his touch. Abbie awws next to him, probably satisfying her urge to slam them together so they can kiss.

Eddie takes out his phone. “Any injuries, amore mio?” 

Makoto leaves Laurent’s touch, bewildered. He can slightly hear the response.

“Jävla faaan, I almost died!” Anderson complains.

“It’s because you chased me so seriously,” Eddie chuckles, looking outside.

The man lets out a whine. “If I don’t do it seriously, my team will suspect me. And the nice suit you bought me is ruined.” 

“Come on, bello,” the producer sighs, closing his eyes. “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. I promise.”

There’s a pause until the detective finally mumbles, “F-Fine… jag älskar dig.”

Makoto’s brain short-circuits. He squints his eyes, trying to make sense of the situation until his eyes widen like saucers. 

“ _He’s_ your husband?!”

* * *

They finally arrived at an abandoned factory, men outside opening the gate.

“Are we doing the exchange here?” Laurent questions, staring at the building.

“That’s right,” confirms Eddie, and they all come out of the car.

Makoto stares in wonder at what’s in front of his eyes, staying close to Laurent and Abbie. “What is this place?”

“It’s a cider factory,” the producer confirms.

Abbie raises her arms in excitement. “I love cider!” she cheers.

“That was before. Now we make something else.” Eddie opens the door, showing an array of people in masks working with white powder. “Here’s the heart of our operation.”

“With a factory this size, you could make huge amounts of Sakura Magic,” Laurent boasts.

“Now, I trust you, figlio,” the producer starts, turning to Makoto, “but answer me this. Sakura Magic is first-rate, right?

“Absolutely!” 

“Then I trust you’ll make it. Right in front of us.”

Makoto tries to contain his panic. “Y-Yes, of course, padre.” _Oh god oh god oh god oh god-_ “However, this place is _so_ dirty and those tools,” he scuffs, “That would obviously temper with the final product.” 

“Hm, you do have a point,” Eddie answers with a pensive look. “Fair enough, let’s renovate!” He goes to hug the young man. “We’ll replace all the instruments. It'll be a replica of your lab!”

Sweet lord, have mercy.

* * *

They’re back in the car, with Abbie drooling in her sleep on his left and Laurent trying to reassure him by his usual method of holding his hand, not that he complains. Makoto always thinks of his mother in these moments.

“Watch after them until the renovation is done, got it?” Eddie commands to Salazar.

“Yes sir.”

The Japanese man glances at Laurent, hugging his arm in silence. 

“Don’t be shy, figlio. It’s a homestay at Salazar’s place,” the producer states.

“The doctor can stay at my hotel.” The Frenchman tries saving the situation. Makoto is grateful even if it doesn’t work in the end.

Eddie sighs, staring at the man in sympathy. “I’m sorry Laurent but we’ll have to steal your boyfriend for a while. We can’t let an important guest stay at a hotel.”

_Boyfriend, that sounds nice,_ Makoto thinks as his face reddens.

“Keep him comfortable at all time,” the man orders again at Salazar.

“Yes, leave it to me,” the other unconditionally accepts.

* * *

Makoto awkwardly stands in his to-be bedroom. He doesn’t dare touch anything in case he breaks something. He misses Laurent and Abbie.

“Use this bed,” Salazar tells the young man in a calm tone as he fixes the bedsheets. “I’ll use the sofa downstairs. Use the shower anytime but the temperature doesn’t change.” He moves to the threshold before adding, “Don’t touch anything in the room.”

Makoto stays frozen for a few seconds. He was too afraid to ask for clothes and now imagines the possibility of sleeping naked, which is a big no-no. He eyes the alcohol bottles before deciding against it. He suddenly becomes rigid again as the door opens, showing Salazar with nightclothes.

“Wear this.” He leaves as fast as he entered.

Makoto stares at the clothing items on his bed, hesitantly taking them and slowly leaving the bedroom in search of the bathroom. He admires the several paintings showcased. He gasps as he notices one in particular. _Is that the actual Japanese Footbridge by Monet?!_ The brunette gawks at the lush and luminous Asian-influenced water garden, a feeling of homesickness overcoming him. He reaches towards it before mentally slapping himself, retracting his arm. The last thing he needs is putting his dirty fingerprints on there.

He walks along the corridor and opens the first door on his left. He breathes out of relief as he discovers the bathroom. Setting the sleepwear aside, he closes his eyes. _From now on, avoid any mirror and don’t fucking look down._

* * *

Makoto comes out of the bathroom in pyjamas, carrying a bundle of used clothes only to bump into the one and only Salazar. He drops the bundle on the floor, quickly picking the items back and stutters an apology. He doesn’t even meet the other man’s gaze, running back to his room and almost slamming the door. He steadies himself against the door, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. He hates looking vulnerable in front of strangers. If only Laurent was here… well, he’d probably wonder why he has two tumours on his chest. 

He flops down on the bed before groaning as he realises the light is still on. As he walks towards the light switch, the hairs on the back of his neck raise. _Why do I feel watched…_ He puts the thought aside, there’s not much he can do about it anyway. Lights off, he observes the moonlight entering the room. Makoto goes towards the window and observes the sky. Unfortunately, it’s the same as in Japan, light pollution hiding the stars. 

He doesn’t feel much tired but there’s not much he can do in a different country with no SIM card for his phone. He sighs, opting to meditate instead. He crawls on the bed, crossing his legs in a lotus position. He focuses on his breathing and clears any bad thoughts. 

_Hair that looks so soft._

He tries clearing his head again.

_Shiny azure blue eyes._

His face frowns as his heartbeat quickens.

_A smirk that just asks to be kissed._

Makoto screams into his pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today on Daddy Issues: my new father is a mafia boss??? and he's taken a liking to me because i remind him of a son he never could have had??????


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i added a few songs in the fic's playlist which you can find [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6FZDIqgpYvYKisRkLEa9Vp?si=voN29-JVTPyDuM7zvHATIg)

Makoto gets awakened by a knock on his door. He’s told they’ll be leaving soon. He sits on the bed, hugging his knees and breathing deeply. He hates any dream including his father. It always leaves him irritated for the day. After scratching his dead, he stares at a family picture including Salazar. _These items are so out of character,_ he wonders.

The young man puts on his binder and sniffs yesterday’s clothes, not having much choice in the matter and throws on his fake glasses. He walks out of the room, going downstairs to find Salazar waiting for him. The other opens the door leading outside for Makoto, and as the Japanese man steps outside, he’s immediately hugged by a woman.

“A-Abbie!” He slowly hugs her back, “it’s good to see you.”

“And it’s good to see you’re still alive,” she smiles, eventually stepping back and nodding in the blond’s direction. Probably code for ‘go see him’.

Makoto feels himself flush when his eyes meet Laurent’s. He starts walking before choosing to run and hugs him tightly, almost pushing them both to the ground. The familiar scent of the fresh ocean hits his senses, bringing him comfort. An arm pulls him closer and Makoto can hear the strong heartbeat of the Frenchman. He slowly looks up to the other and feverishly grins. Laurent’s other hand holds his face, his thumb softly stroking his cheek. 

“You’re unbearably adorable, Edamame,” Laurent whispers low enough so that only the two of them can hear.

“Y-You mean it?” His eyes widen, not believing someone is actually complimenting him.

Laurent’s thumb brushes over his lips and stares at the smaller man with a soft look. “I do. I want to kiss every little corner of your body.”

Makoto’s face becomes beet red and it takes all of his willpower in him to not melt on the ground. “Then…” he shyly adds, “please hold that thought for when we'll be alone.”

Laurent smiles- a real, genuine smile before they’re interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

“Don’t I also get a hug?” teases Eddie, watching Laurent with a cautious glare then switches to a gentle expression towards Makoto.

The brunette reluctantly leaves Laurent’s hold and offers a hug to the older man. “Why do I feel like you’re about to give Laurent a shovel talk?” he chuckles.

“What if I said you’re right?” Eddie admits, huffing.

Makoto gasps before laughing, playfully punching his shoulder. “Tou-san~!” His smile falters at the Freudian slip.

Eddie notices the change of mood, signalling for everyone to get in the limousine. “Come, figlio. I’ll show you something.”

* * *

Makoto once again sits in-between Abbie and Laurent. Abbie being herself, of course, she constantly looks for things that will put their blood pressure through the roof.

“Can we have another car chase?” she enthusiastically asks.

Eddie chuckles in amusement. “Anderson doesn’t work that hard and sadly I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you two meet?” Laurent interjects, curious.

Eddie comfortable adjusts himself before he begins, “You should start by knowing I come from a poor family. My mother would put her blood, sweat and tears into her job for my father to waste it all on alcohol,” he stares into space before he blinks and resumes, “One day, I had enough. I was just a teen but I managed to convince my mother to escape. We put everything we needed in a single bag and quietly left in the middle of the night. Of course, we stole my father’s car and drove to the next city, where my mother’s sister lived. Ah- I’ve been rambling enough about my childhood.” He clears his throat. “Life was getting better, my mother had a new job, a new place and I had a new school. And that… is where I met him, Magne Anderson. I was just the new kid in dirty clothes and he was… perfect, immaculate. Perfect grades, perfect status, perfect parents, so imagine my surprise when I catch him in the restroom drinking from a flask. It turns out his life wasn’t as perfect as everyone made it out to be. It didn’t take long for us to befriend each other, or to get in bed together for that matter.” Makoto covers his face in embarrassment. “I committed a few… unsavoury acts that made it hard for me to get a high paying job, and Magne’s dream was, of all things, to join the law enforcement. We somehow made it work and here we are.” Eddie takes pleasure in seeing the surprised look from the three. Abbie whistles in amazement.

“Wow, padre… that was…” Makoto tries expressing. 

“I’m very grateful you decided to share your story with us, Eddie. Thank you.” Laurent bows his head.

“I believe you deserve the truth if you’re to become my future son-in-law.” Makoto stutters a few incomprehensible words in flusterment. “Ah- here we are!”

They all come out of the limousine, Makoto staring in awe at the constructions. Only then does he remember the situation he’s in. _How the fuck am I gonna make a fictional drug?_

“Line up the instruments here. All from Germany,” Laurent orders to a worker. “Distillation devices go here,” he points somewhere else. “Darling, where should the water filters go?”

Makoto snaps out of his daze. “Oh, how about… here, yes.” He tries sounding like he actually knows what the fuck he’s doing.

“How long will it take?” The producer lights a cigar then puffs out smoke.

“It should be done in two weeks,” the worker answers.

“Do it in one.”

The other gulps. “Yes, mister Cassano.”

Eddie turns to Makoto. “Have you ever smoked a cigar, figlio?” he inquires to the young man.

The brunette approaches him in curiosity. A hand reaches out, offering it and Makoto finds himself smoking the cigar. He catches a hint of earthy, nutty and spicy flavour and stares in amazement at the older man. “Thanks, padre!” he exclaims, giving back the man his cigar and receives a pat on the shoulder.

“Until then, enjoy Los Angeles.” He smiles at Makoto. “Salazar, make sure he’s entertained."

“Yes sir.”

The Japanese man waves at Eddie and Abbie as they enter the limousine then turns to Laurent. “So, what’s your plan?”

“Can you cook well?” the blond asks him.

“Um- sure, I’m fairly good.” _Is he proposing a date over dinner?_ The Frenchman only winks in response, and so Makoto has to use his last resort; puppy eyes.

Laurent sighs before chuckling. “Fine, you little devil. I have a contact who can teach you how to make Sakura Magic- the real version.”

He mentally slaps himself. _Of course, it wasn’t a date invitation, you idiot._ “Right... Thank you, Laurent.” He forces a smile, although the other man doesn’t seem to buy it.

“Hey, what’s wrong, little soybean?” Laurent looks at him, concerned.

“Erm…” The brunette looks around, noticing all the people surrounding them. “When we have a bit of privacy?” he adds, sheepish.

Laurent nods, squeezing his hand. “Of course, Edamame.”

“Makoto,” he shyly looks away, “call me… Makoto.”

“If that’s what you wish for,” the blond whispers next to his ear, “Makoto~” he seductively finishes.

“Y-You can't just…” Makoto starts, flushed, and takes a deep breath. “Salazar, could you please drive us back to your place?”

“Of course, Doctor.” He signals for them to get in his car. The ride is silent, somewhat awkward. Makoto has a feeling the driver feels the unspoken tension. “We could stop to get condoms if you wish.”

“T-T-That won’t be necessary!” 

Laurents bursts out laughing and Makoto’s heart skips a beat from the scene, butterflies back in his stomach.

* * *

Makoto practically drags Laurent upstairs and after closing the door, slowly walks around the room. “So, it’s all very nice, this flirting thingy and I’m… wondering where this goes.” He tries not appearing nervous. A set of hands grasp his waist and Makoto looks up.

“I’d love to continue what we have, you make me feel… things I haven’t felt in a while. If that’s something you want, that is.” The blond brings their foreheads together.

“I-I want to, but… there’s another thing.” His heartbeat quickly accelerates. “My brain is male, like yours,” he nervously chuckles, “but my body isn’t. And eventually, my brain was like ‘hey, there’s something that doesn’t match’ and like, for a long time I really didn’t like looking at myself. I still don’t but it’s kinda… better. Ah- sorry, I’m rambling. The point is… now I’m transitioning to make my body match with my brain so I don’t feel like shit every day. And it’s important you know that because... It’s possible it doesn't attract you and not everyone has the mental health to handle that, which is fine, but yeah, n-now you know my big, bad secret… Oh my god, that feels so nice.” He deeply exhales, feeling like a huge weight was lifted off of his shoulders. There’s a brief silence before the other speaks.

“I’ll support you,” Laurent declares.

“Eh?” Makoto doesn’t believe his ears.

“Whatever obstacles you have to go through, if you don’t get out of bed for the day, if you don’t wanna receive any touch, or you just need someone to vent to,” Laurent looks into his chestnut eyes. “I’ll always respect you.” 

“L-Laurent…” He feels his vision getting blurry and a hand wipes his tears off. “Now I feel stupid, I should have told you from the beginning.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. It’s not an easy thing to talk about and I’m proud of you, little soybean.” He sends the other a comforting smile.

“I’ve really made you soft, haven’t I?” Makoto chuckles before grinning. 

“And you’ve certainly become cocky,” the blond grins back.

The Japanese man feels himself getting lifted and wraps his legs around Laurent’s waist as he hooks his arms after his neck. “Always have been.” He brings their face close. He nearly misses, his lips a bit too far to the left and his nose bumping against the other’s, but he doesn’t stop. His eyes are closed but he can hear the crinkling of Laurent’s smile as he moves his mouth into position, tilting his head so that their lips can meet firmly and happily, at last. He’s breathing right into Makoto’s nose as he exhales, tickling his nostril hairs, making him giggle, which also makes Laurent start giggling. As the brunette pulls back sheepishly, the Frenchman nibbles on the tip of his nose before quickly kissing it, and the other man’s eyes open to see bright cornflower blue ones. 

Makoto kisses the man again and feels his back hit the wall. It’s soft and moist and hot and breathy, wanting union and closeness. Heat rises in the smaller man’s cheeks as their tongues touch, quick and electric and delicious. Then he becomes more determined and curious about the heat that lies inside him, seeking to chase the lightning that reached through both of them. Laurent moves to kiss his jaw and transitions to his neck, earning a gasp from the brunette. 

“May I give you a hickey?” the Frenchman asks, licking his lips. Makoto automatically nods, not processing the words. As he's panting, Laurent kisses one spot on his neck before softly sucking on it for a few seconds. He then lays a few gentle kisses and pecks his lips. “Are you feeling okay, love?”

Makoto blinks a few times, a small smile appearing. “I am, just… a bit dizzy.”

“Let’s get you laid down.” The brunette gets carried to bed and the other man lays next to him. 

“Can… can we cuddle?” Makoto timidly asks.

Laurent pretends to think as he hums. “Only if I can be the small spoon.”

The young man giggles and gestures for the other to get closer. He holds the blond close, resting his head on his shoulder and enjoys the warmth shared. He dozes off quickly and is awakened an hour later by a kiss on his head. 

“I’m afraid I have to go meet our friend but we’ll see each other soon.” The blond ruffles his hair.

Makoto lets out a small whine but lets him go, and mumbles, “気を付けて.” 

“When am I not careful?” The taller man pouts.

“I just have a feeling one day you’ll slip up,” he smirks at the other. “So just be careful so I don’t have to bust you outta prison.”

“Only for you, Makoto. Only for you.”

He watches the man leave and as he rubs his neck, furiously blushes from the sensible mark. _Curse that blond bastard._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah, they finally kissed!!!
> 
> i hope this chapter wasn't too heavy in dialogue.
> 
> also i'm trapped in fatherly!eddie hell


	7. Chapter 7

Makoto is, for once, actually sleeping soundly. That is, until Abbie repeatedly pokes him.

“Huh… Laurent…?” He squints his eyes, still half asleep.

She tries stifling her laugh as she looks at the man’s neck. “Someone’s been getting some~”

“S-Shut up!” He tries tackling her down but instead gets tangled in blankets, resulting in him falling on the floor and groans in pain. Abbie has at least the decency of helping him get up.

“Alright so,” She shoves an iPad at Makoto, “watch this so you can learn how to make drugs. It could also be useful in the future.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“Nuh-uh, we’re not touching hard drugs,” he snickers, then starts watching the video, showing Laurent with the cook, Ed. His partner settles on the couch as he listens to the instructions given to him with a puzzled look.

“Boil these together and you’re set,” Ed confidently exclaims. Makoto wants to laugh and cry at the same time, rewatching the video from the beginning.

“Holy Spirit of Walter White, give me strength,” he groans into his hands and ignores Abbie as she’s wheezing.

* * *

Makoto’s comparing his hands with Daniel Radcliffe’s, praying the heat won't mess up the concealer when Salazar approaches him from behind.

“We should head to the ballpark if you don’t wanna miss the game,” the older man advises.

When did he agree for this? “Um… sure, let’s go!” He hopes his smile doesn’t look awkward. Soon enough he finds himself watching the baseball game, hotdog and Pepsi in hands. He also discovers that his stomach does _not_ enjoy the combination. _The wonderful pleasures of America._

A child catches his attention and the brunette is reminded of Salazar’s family picture. “Can I ask you… something private?” 

“Go ahead, little boss,” the other man responds, the nickname making Makoto blush.

“Where do your wife and kid live?” He hopes he’s not overstepping on something sensible.

Salazar releases a deep sigh before answering, “My wife died in an accident. And my son… with social services.”

“O-Oh, I’m really sorry… can you still see him?” Makoto looks down, feeling guilty from bringing up the subject.

“I see him once a week,” he responds with a disappointed tone. “On Sundays.”

“Isn’t that today!? Listen, screw that stupid baseball game, let’s go visit him!” He grabs Salazar’s sleeve and drags him out of the ballpark, ignoring the man’s protests. Suddenly the taller man stops.

“I… thank you. I can see why the boss likes you.” He pulls out a smile and ruffles the brunette’s hair, then guides him to his car. As they start driving, Makoto’s curiosity gets the best of him and so his hand hovers on the play button. 

“Wait, don’t-”

_“-This is Ground Control to Major Tom_

_You've really made the grade_

_And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear_

_Now it's time to leave the capsule if you dare-”_

The young man tries not to laugh with how red the driver’s face becomes. He joins in with Bowie, hoping to make the man feel better. “This is Major Tom to Ground Control. I'm stepping through the door. And I'm floating in a most peculiar way. And the stars look very different todayyy~”

Salazar chuckles, giving him a tap on the shoulder. “You’re pretty cool, kid.”

* * *

Makoto’s heart bursts with joy as he sees Salazar spinning his son in the air, and he certainly does _not_ think of Eddie, no sir. 

“You’re late~” the young boy remarks, holding his father’s hand.

“Luckily, I suddenly got some time off work.” he pats his head.

Salazar’s son takes a look at Makoto and asks, “Who is this?”

“Hi! I’m Makoto.” The brunette cheerfully waves.

“Chinese?” He tilts his head.

“Japanese,” the young man politely corrects.

“Woahhh, are you a ninja?!”

Makoto giggles. “Yes, that’s right,” he kneels to the other’s height. “Between you and me, I’m pretty good at disguises.”

“Wow, show me!” The Japanese man sees from the corner of his eye a smile from Salazar.

* * *

Makoto screams from the top of his lungs and feels the hot dog coming back in his throat but even if he ends up throwing up, hearing Tom’s laughs is absolutely worth it. As they get off the ride, the young man sits next to a tree and hopes his stomach is kind enough to settle down.

“What are we riding next?” Tom eagerly asks, sitting on his father’s shoulders. He remembers doing the same at his age… “Wait, I wanna see this!” The boy points at gacha machines.

Makoto smiles and slowly walks up to them, still holding his stomach. He crouches down next to Tom and watches as he opens his capsule toy. 

“It’s a gangster.” The boy frowns.

“You don’t want it?” 

“If only there was a bodyguard like papá…”

“Gangsters are kinda similar, right?” Makoto tries consoling the other.

“They’re completely different! A bodyguard protects VIPs,” The Japanese man raises his hands in surrender. “That’s way cooler than the policemen and the FBI!” Makoto reaches into his pocket and pulls out a figurine. “Wow, a samurai? This is so cool!” he exclaims, holding it.

“I’ll trade it for the gangster.” _For once you’re not doing so bad._

“Hooray!” Tom cheers. “Papá, look, it’s Mifune.”

“You know your stuff,” Salazar chuckles, sending a grateful look at Makoto. 

“He can cut down five guys with a single katana!”

Makoto slowly walks away, lighting a cancer stick before his bodyguard stops him. “I’m only going to the restroom right there, I’ll be fine~” he reassures the other, waving. Soon enough, he finds himself in the middle of two doors. He takes one last drag from his cigarette before stomping on it. _You pass enough, you can do this. Just go in quickly and don’t stare at anyone. Just please be clean, for the love of God._

Thankfully no one else is there and he’s able to quickly finish his business. He lets out a breath of relief as he washes his hands- that is, until a hand covers his mouth. _Hey, isn’t that Anderson?_

“Don’t struggle,” the detective warns. “Well, aren’t you a cute little thing?” He brings his face closer.

Makoto licks his hand, smirking as the other automatically removes it, groaning. He keeps a smug expression even as he’s forced into the stall he previously used. _Hello there friend, we meet again._ It’s not because the man is married to his padre that he won’t be a little shit. He hears the sound of heels and a redhead woman appears in front of him.

“Sasaki Makoto, I’m Special Agent Dickens from the FBI.” she informs him with a confident tone. “May I ask a few questions about your relationship with Cassano?”

_Suck my dick._ “You may not,” he replies with a full smile.

She sighs, “Cassano’s honeymoon with the LAPD is over now.” He raises an eyebrow at Anderson who silently replies ‘Hey man, don’t look at me.’ “You’re making drugs for Cassano, right?” she questions the young man again.

He looks at the redhead with an offended expression. “Not at all, ma’am.”

“We know everything,” she smugly adds, “including the fact that Laurent is just using you. Our goal is to arrest Laurent and Cassano together.

Makoto tightens his fist, nails almost drawing blood. How _dare_ she. But he has to keep his calm. He can’t fuck this up. “R-Really?” He acts hurt.

“The quickest way is to catch them during the exchange.” Anderson finally says, and the Japanese man can hear the hint of pain from his voice.

“There’s no need to lie. If you make the candy, we’ll make sure to recompense you,” the agent affirms.

Makoto pretends to hesitate then nods. “A… Alright, I’ll do it.” He makes sure to look sad.

“Good boy,” she grins, ruffling his hair. He would bite her hand if he could. She then gives him another pair of glasses he assumes is some sort of gadget. “All you need to do is put them on when you decide to help us~”

The brunette waits for them to leave before he quickly texts Salazar thanks to the new SIM card offered by Eddie.

**_we need to gtfo_ **

**_meet you at your car_ **

He finds a secluded area and takes out the glasses. _I bet she also put a tracker._ Makoto angrily stomps on them. “Take. That. You. Fucking. Redheaded. Bitch!” He heavily pants, staring at the broken bits and throws them into Oblivion. Makoto then runs to the parking lot and quickly finds Salazar with a confused expression.

He tries speaking in between breaths. “We have a… _business…_ emergency…”

The other man looks at his son. “I’m sorry hijo but I have to get back to work.”

* * *

Makoto insisted that they all meet at Eddie’s mansion and he eventually finds himself bombarded by concerned looks as they’re all sitting in a huge living room.

“The FBI’s onto us,” he bluntly starts.

Eddie stands up in surprise. “What?!”

Salazar curses along with Abbie. “Tell us everything you know,” Laurent requests.

The Japanese man sighs, “She calls herself Paula Dickens and somehow she joined forces with the LAPD. I don’t know if Anderson spilt the beans, or if she found out by herself, but they know… they know about the drugs, the exchange… My fake name and yours, Laurent.”

“Gesù scalzo nella valle dei chiodi,” Eddie loudly curses.

“That woman is bad news,” growls Abbie, biting her nails.

“I’m sure we can come up with a plan,” declares the blond, optimistic as always.

“Well…” Makoto scratches his head. “We do have one leverage. She believes I’ll be helping them, which might buy us some time. That, and she doesn’t know _when_ we’ll do the exchange.”

Laurent turns to Eddie. “You could… ask Anderson for help to, let’s say, point them in a different direction?”

The producer sighs as he rubs his eyes. “I suppose at this point, Magne’s our only hope.”

They collectively stay silent for a moment before Makoto speaks to Eddie, fidgeting. “Could we… stay here for the night?”

The other perks up, clapping his hands. “With the change of event, your safety is primordial. Make yourself at home, figlio! Oh- I could draw you a bath, give you this nice Egyptian cotton set for when you go to sleep. And- I have these amazing snacks you _have_ to try.”

The brunette fights back the tears threatening to spill, running to hug Eddie. “You’re the best, padre.” He feels a hand caressing his back. 

Salazar sniffs in the background. “I’m sorry, it’s just so…” He uses his hand to fan his face.

“Damn, Edamame got himself a sugar da- ow!” Abbie rubs her side, staring daggers at Laurent.

Makoto busts out laughing, feeling a lightness in his heart. Despite the shithole they’re in, right now, he truly feels happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> salazar: thank the gods i don't have to explain the hidden camera 
> 
> also if you're confused by laurent's ignorance, i can assure you he's not lying. all will be revealed soon


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i added again more songs in the playlist which you can find, as always, [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6FZDIqgpYvYKisRkLEa9Vp?si=zhQOFAnfRUGxpB_uETEakw)

Makoto truly believed the night would go on smoothly. After the freakout, his hunger finally started to be felt. As he embarrassingly asks Eddie for food, the other proposes a cannabis-infused Thai curry gnocchi dish, making the young man’s stomach growl at the mouth-watering idea. He watches in amazement his adoptive father cook with skills that show years of practice. After only 30 minutes, his two partners and Salazar are awaiting around one of the many dining tables. Eddie comes out carrying 5 plates and silverware, and Makoto quickly helps setting up the table. Soon after, the man comes back with a pot containing the deliciously-smelling goodness.

“Help yourselves, please,” Eddie insists, gesturing at the food.

The brunette doesn’t need to hear it twice, holding the serving spoon and giving himself a generous portion. As soon as he’s done, Abbie quickly snatches it away. He notices Laurent trying to hide his eagerness, fingers drumming on the table, then a grin showing on his face as he serves himself. Salazar, ever so the gentleman, gives a portion to Eddie before himself.

“いただきます.” Makoto claps his hands, then digs in the meal. The cream’s richness and the marriage of flavour draws a moan out of him. 

“Holy shit, this is so good,” the girl speaks for him, mouth still half full and Laurent nods in agreement.

“Padre, I would kill for your cooking.” And he’s not even joking.

“You’ve outdone yourself, sir,” compliments Salazar.

Eddie looks at all of them with gratitude, a smile crossing his face. “You’re all too kind. This is the first recipe my madre taught me after she met her partner in Thailand. Well, minus the cannabis,” he chuckles.

* * *

Makoto’s lying on the couch with his eyes closed, belly happily fed. He hears footsteps coming closer and a hand softly ruffles his hair. “Mhm.. padre, is that you?”

“Is everything alright, figlio?” a concerned voice asks him.

The Japanese man nods. “I just wasn’t expecting the… the high to hit so hard,” he sheepishly smiles.

“Let me show your room, it has a bed big enough for you and Laurent.” Eddie offers a hand and Makoto accepts it, his face slightly red.

They take the stairs and pass many doors to finally arrive at his room at the end of a corridor. The brunette slowly opens the door and gasps at the luxurious furniture and decor. What’s more, there’s a closet full of designer clothes. He thinks he’s about to faint.

“Kami-sama, I c-can’t… padre, this is too much.” He turns to the man. “I-I mean, I don’t… deserve all of this…”

“Of course you do, you’ll be helping us make millions!” The other man grins.

Makoto feels the guilt eat him from the inside. _God, should I tell him? I'm just high. That would ruin the entire scam and both Laurent and Abbie would hate me forever. But… he’s my father._ He looks at Eddie and feels his lips quiver. Hot tears streak down his face and a few sobs escape from his mouth.

“You don’t have to accept the clothes if that’s what you prefer! W-What’s wrong, figlio?” Eddie asks as he’s panicking.

“I’m r-really sorry,” he sniffs, “it’s… me, Laurent, Abbie, we…” Makoto feels something clogging up his throat and he tries swallowing it away. “We lied about the whole thing, to… to scam you. B-But don’t hurt them, please! It’s my fault...” He looks down in shame, watching the teardrops fall on the floor.

There’s a silence before the man responds, “ _Excuse me?”_

The brunette bites his lips. “I’m not actually a doctor… we faked Sakura Magic, I’m- I'm sorry...”

Eddie speaks in an unrecognisable tone. “Y-You… _Get out._ ”

Makoto feels his heart shatter and silently nods, letting his feet drag him away. He doesn’t register Salazar asking him what’s wrong. He doesn’t register Laurent and Abbie skinny dipping in the pool outside. He doesn’t register the sound of the city as he steps outside. He doesn’t register when he arrives in the middle of the city. Nor does he register the two guys with a menacing aura looking at him from an alleyway. But, he does register a fist connecting with his face and being tackled down. 

“Come on, grab the chink’s wallet before people notice!” Makoto faintly hears as his ears ring. He bites his bleeding lips and abruptly twists himself, just enough to kick the guy’s crotch. 

His assaulter groans in pain while a taller man starts walking towards him. “You shouldn’t have done that, man.” The guy in a leather jacket takes out a switchblade. “Now I’m gonna have to actually hurt you.”

The brunette panics as he realises he's fucking high and doesn’t have any weapon on him. Since he values his life more than his pride, he quickly runs -as quick as someone injured can- in the opposite direction. He tries avoiding the pedestrians and when he believes he lost them, he finally takes a look at his surroundings. _Where the fuck am I?_ He takes out his phone and feels himself tearing up again from the cracked and glitched screen.

As Makoto tries finding his way back to the mansion, he only finds himself deeper in the city. He curses, finding a bench where to sit and try to not have a panic attack. It’s an understatement to say he’s going through the worst high ever. _How did it all go to shit so quickly? Please tell me I’m gonna wake up soon._ He stares at the cat figurine, wishing his mother was here.

* * *

An animated billboard shows it’s midnight and Makoto ignores the way his binder is digging into his ribs. And the bruises on his face. And the dry blood on his busted lips. And his feet killing him. The more homeless people he sees, the more he imagines himself becoming like them. Going to the police would only result in him getting arrested. Then again, is prison better- _No. Never again._ He finds an ignored corner, hugging his knees.

* * *

At 3:00 AM a lot of people are drunkenly walking out from bars and clubs, and Makoto, the hypocrite he is, steals the wallet of a probably innocent man. There’s $120, possibly enough for a cheap motel room. He bitterly sighs, this time walking in hopes to find any place where he can rest a little. A broken neon sign catches his attention and he feels a glimpse of hope. The woman at the front counter doesn’t spare a look at his appearance, counting his money and giving him a key for a room on the first floor. The walls are puke green and Makoto wouldn’t be surprised to find blood on his mattress. However, he can remove his binder and have the pleasure of coughing his lungs out. Wearing his shirt back, he goes to the bathroom and is surprised to find actual clean towels. Dipping one in water, he dabs his wounds, slightly hissing. _Well, I’ve certainly looked better in the past._

Dropping on the bed, he lets his mind torture him by replaying the event. _Stupid. That was so fucking stupid. You call yourself Japan’s best swindler and you can’t even fucking lie to your fa- no… he hates me now. He disowned me, whatever the equivalent. And to think you actually made friends and possibly found love… It’s all gone now. You fucking ruined everything._ He cries and cries again into his pillow, because he has manners, until he can’t produce any more tears, eventually passing out from exhaustion. 

* * *

He wakes up groggy, his pillow still wet. He stares at the ceiling with a blank face. Turning to check the clock, it shows 10 AM. Makoto sighs, not knowing what to do. It feels like he’s just waiting for the inevitable. _My testosterone- fuck fuck fuck. I’ll have to get it some other way… and quickly._ He puts back his binder along with the rest of his clothes and pauses when he feels the hickey. _Laurent…_ He tightens his fist, opening the door. 

He’s very confused as he notices several people wearing LAPD jackets further down the hall. “Time of death is around five or six. The perp was definitely angry, you can see bruises on the vic’s neck. But she didn’t die from asphyxiation, obviously, with her head carved in like that. So they smashed her head on... that corner and left the corpse how we found it,” analyses the forensic scientist.

_Holy shit, that's the woman I saw earlier._

“Thank you, Miss Lopez,” praises a masculine voice. “Jesus, kid, you look like shit.”

Makoto turns towards the man with wide eyes. “A-Anderson?”

“Good thing you’re here, I was looking for you too,” he chuckles.

The Japanese man backs away defensively. “I won’t join you or that _bitch_.”

“Woah, relax. It’s actually Eddie who called me last night. He was worried sick, saying how he didn’t think before speaking and he majorly fucked up and now he lost his son, blah blah blah.” The man sighs, “He’s an idiot, but… he’s our idiot.”

“Y-You mean… I can come back?” the young man asks with a small voice.

“Unless you want him to get an aneurysm?” The detecting cocks his head.

He shakes his head, joining the man as they leave the crime scene to get in the police car. 

* * *

“Well, here we are, kid.” He taps the brunette’s back and the other winces. “Oops, you should probably put ice on that.”

_Yeah, no shit._ “Thank you for um… not arresting me,” he nervously laughs, “and for driving me back here.”

“Just know that Eddie’s a big softie. Nothing could make him hate you.”

And with that, the young man leaves the car to stare at the intimidatingly tall mansion. He slowly walks towards the door, his heart pounding in his chest. He gulps before ringing the doorbell. It only takes a few seconds for the door to open, showing a panting movie director. Makoto feels strong arms embracing him tightly.

“Oh thank god you’re back! I was so scared I’d never see you again, figlio mio,” Eddie emotionally exclaims.

“Ow ow ow- I’m… I’m really glad to be back,” admits Makoto.

Eddie gasps as he takes a close look at the purple bruises and cuts on his face. “Who did this to you?” The man growls.

“U-Um… some low thugs who wanted to steal my wallet, I don't know their names or anything...” he cringes, remembering the event. “But you’re not, um, angry at me?”

The man sighs, “Listen, Makoto. I made many mistakes in my life. For a lot of them, I didn’t have the chance to apologise and you… you had the courage to do that.” The brunette feels a warmth spreading around his chest. “So… no, I'm not mad at you. I still love you and… we’ll work on something new with your friends. Speaking of, you should probably go see them.”

The Japanese man properly steps inside to meet Laurent sporting dark circles. His face lightens up like a Christmas light as he notices his partner. 

“Makoto!” The blond runs to him and showers him in soft kisses. Makoto intertwines their fingers together.

“I’m sorry for ruining the plan…” he looks down, feeling embarrassed.

Abbie, rocking a bedhead, wants to whack his head but stops herself. “We care more about you than the plan, stupid!”

Laurent nods, “What she said, and besides, Eddie mentioned he was still willing to help us.”

“I think this calls for a group hug,” Salazar suddenly joins from behind, making the three of them jump.

“Yeah, group hug!” Abbie cheers, gathering everyone.

* * *

“So if I understand well,” Makoto starts, holding an ice pack, “we still go to the factory, I pretend to still make the drug and we wait for them to show up?”

“And then we make her _suffer,_ ” Abbie wickedly grins.

“Of course, I’ll bring several people in case we need protection,” adds Eddie.

“So instead of us getting ambushed, we ambush them,” Laurent grins along.

“That’s…” The brunette pauses to think, “actually not bad. And padre, don't forget about the torture kit. But what about the-”

“Money?” the producer completes. “Before we start, know that I’m only doing this for _him._ So if I hear either of you hurt my figlio… I’ll let you imagine the rest.” 

“Yes sir,” Laurent and Abbie respond, gulping.

Eddie takes out several checks. “I’ve decided to give you each a million.” He starts writing, “To Abigail Jones, one million.” She takes the check with trembling hands. “To Makoto Eda-”

“A-Actually, you should give my share to Laurent. We’ll split,” Makoto nervously smiles.

“Very well. To Laurent Thierry, two million,” he hands the check to the blond.

“Thank you very much, Eddie. Your kindness is really appreciated.” The Frenchman bows.  
  


“I will expect the same kindness coming from my son-in-law,” the man smirks.

* * *

“It hurtsss,” Makoto pouts, sitting on his new bed with Laurent.

“Je sais, mon chou. But it’s important to disinfect everything. We don't want nasties on your beautiful face,” comforts the blond, dabbing alcohol and placing band-aids.

After a few painful minutes, and a bit of thrashing around, not that Makoto will admit it, he finally lets out a sigh of relief as everything is over. “Okay, now I have to show you something,” he grins, going in the closet and closing the door.

“You know, nothing is stopping me from entering~” Laurent teases.

“You better not, you dick! Anyway, I’m almost done now.” And soon enough, Makoto comes out in a Louis Vuitton tracksuit, posing. “So, what do you think?”

“Mhm…” The Frenchman approaches him, “I think it does wonders for your ass,” he smirks, grabbing his behind and pulling him close.

The brunette snorts. “Of course you’d say that.” He stares at the other’s lips and whines. “It’s not fair you can kiss me but I can’t kiss you.”

Laurent approaches his lips to his hickey and repeatedly kisses it, making the smaller man moan as they both fall on the bed. “Then I shall make up for it by doubling the amount~”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a sucker for angst/comfort and i hope that was up to your liking
> 
> also happy new year!! <3


	9. Chapter 9

Makoto awakens by the sunlight peeking through curtains. He begins stirring, stretching his limbs and releases a satisfied sigh. Opening his eyes, his heart stutters at the sight of the man lying next to him. He finds an odd beauty seeing him in such a vulnerable state. It doesn’t help that Laurent prefers sleeping without a shirt. 

Feeling his lips slightly more healed, the Japanese man lowers the bedsheets, revealing perfectly toned abs. He starts by kissing his clavicle, then lowers to his pectorals, slowly trailing down his chest with kisses. He feels a hand burying itself in his hair and Makoto looks up, seeing Laurent with a grin etched on his face.

“You should go further down,” he teases.

The brunette feels blood rushing to his cheeks. He grabs the closest pillow and throws it at the man. The blond chuckles, grabbing the man’s wrists and pins him down. Makoto gasps, his face quickly reddening.

Laurent looks at him with a devilish smirk. “Could it be that my little soybean enjoys being submissive~?”

“I-I… maybe? You know I never...” He looks away, embarrassed.

The Frenchman’s look softens. “We have all the time in the world to explore that. We already know one of your sensible spots- and oh my, it looks even better in daylight.”

Makoto’s brows furrow. “What…” Laurent’s grip weakens as he stands up, going towards a mirror. He starts remembering yesterday night as he views his neck that’s _entirely covered in love bites_. “How- how am I going to hide this?” He groans into his hands. 

The blond hums, roaming around the room before wrapping a Versace scarf around the young man’s neck. Makoto smiles, holding the other’s hands. “Thank you. It’s not that-”

“Don’t worry, I also prefer to be taken seriously,” reassures the Frenchman. “And I’m sorry for… ah, losing control last night.”

“It’s okay! I… I do like having your mark…” The brunette feels himself blush again.

Laurent softly pecks his lips. “I do believe we should get ready; today may be _very_ exciting,” he grins.

* * *

Makoto should probably be worried about the FBI but he finds himself stressing more over the fact that his Testogel bottle is almost empty. He tries pushing back the worry as he and Laurent go into the living room to join the others. 

“So, Magne came around last night,” he gestures for Makoto to sit next to him, “and he’ll tell the LAPD that apparently, it just so happened that you, figlio, decided to leak the exchange’s date,” Eddie informs.

“Oh. _Oh._ That’s a smart lie,” exclaims Makoto, silently thanking Anderson.

Laurent crosses his legs. “Since we’re already on the subject, I know you both,” he points at his partners, “have a more violent outcome in mind.” Makoto and Abbie knowingly grin at each other. “However, an alliance with the FBI and LAPD could prove to be useful.”

Eddie hums in agreement. “It would certainly make things easier. Are you suggesting bribing them with money?”

“That, my dear, is when my silver tongue comes in useful.” The Frenchman winks and Makoto is reminded of why he’s so attracted to the man.

* * *

As they come out of the limousine, Makoto feels like digging a hole to hide himself at the sight of the expensive renovation. But that would ruin the black and gold Versace suit he’s wearing to complement his scarf. 

A few of Eddie’s men follow them inside as they enter the factory. Abbie gasps in amazement, touching everything that’s at her reach. Thankfully a few seats have been placed, making their time here less boring. 

“Is something the matter?” The producer asks the brunette.

“I just…” His nails dig into his palm. “I still feel guilty for making you spend that amount.” 

“Come here.” Makoto sees Eddie offering him a hug and gladly accepts it. “This place was in poor conditions, to begin with. Now my employees will work in a better environment and it’s thanks to you.”

The young man feels a smile stretching on his face. “You have a kind heart, padre.” 

“You’re the one that pushed me to change, Makoto.”

* * *

“-and that’s how I made a soldier shit his pants,” finishes Abbie, dusting off her hands. The Japanese man snorts in astonishment 

“Those were some interesting threats you made,” Salazar praises.

Laurent chuckles. “‘Interesting’ is one word for it.”

“Um, guys,” She looks at the ceiling. “Am I the only one hearing a helicopter?”

“Ah, so it begins,” Eddie mutters.

There’s a knock at the door. A few construction workers enter, pretending that there’s an issue. Anderson shares a knowing look with them and Makoto pats his hidden gun. Not long after, SWAT teams bust into the building and Eddie sighs at the broken windows. The brunette feels _slightly_ intimated with a dozen weapons pointed at them.

“Gentlemen, please, we can resolve this peacefully,” Laurent holds his hands in the air.

“This is the FBI,” Paula announces, showing her badge.

Laurent’s head jerks in the woman’s direction, disbelief across his face. “ _Cynthia?_ Putain de merde- of course, you went behind my back.” He swears, losing his calm.

“Why the fuck did you pose as an FBI agent?!” Abbie angrily walks towards her, disregarding the AR-15 poking her stomach. “Get that fake shit away from me.” She pushes the man aside. 

Makoto, Salazar and Eddie are equally confused. “Someone tell me what the fuck’s going on,” pleads the Japanese man.

“We could be making more money! I can easily blackmail Cassano,” Cynthia tries reasoning.

Laurent protectively guards Eddie “When I told you to not get involved, I expected you to _not fucking get involved!_ ” Makoto has never seen the man so angry before.

Abbie loudly sighs. “Go home, everyone. The shitshow’s over. Come on, chop-chop.” She gestures for the crew to leave. 

Anderson quickly kisses the producer before departing. The latter clears his throat, desiring an explanation. The blond turns to the man. “We’re part of what we call Team Confidence, and Cynthia… also happens to be a member.”

“But why would she…” Makoto trails off, confused.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell us, dear?” asks Laurent in a cold tone.

“I-I…” she hesitates, “I believed my method would be more successful. I... apologise for betraying you. I’m aware of my mistakes and- and I swear it won’t happen again.”

The Frenchman rubs his eyes. “Why don’t you… start researching on those two princes, yeah? Abbie, you’re free to join her. Or- you can stay with us.” He winks at her. 

She grins, hugging him and Makoto. “Duh, of course I’m staying with you guys.” She turns to Cynthia and with a blank expression, watches her leave.

“Can I...” Makoto starts, looking at his father, “ask for your help, padre?”

“Always.”

“I’d like to have an American citizenship,” he shyly admits.

Eddie ruffles his hair, laughing. “This isn’t my first time helping someone with that. Let’s go home, I’ll call a few people.”

* * *

Makoto is starting to consider Eddie’s mansion his home too. As he enters inside, he feels a bit more familiar with the layout. He collapses on the closest couch, reaching into his pocket and placing a cigarette in his mouth. That is, until someone snatches it away. 

“I’m afraid I can’t afford smoke ruining the furniture,” remarks Eddie, “so I’ll politely invite you to go outside.”

“Yes, padre,” the brunette snatches the stick back before heading to the courtyard and removes his blazer under the burning sun. Leaning on the railing, he’s admiring the landscape as he’s smoking when arms wrap around his waist. “I wonder who that could be,” he smirks.

“Abbie, obviously.” 

Makoto snorts at that, stepping on his cigarette before turning around. “You’ve gotten more handsome, Abbie.” He wraps his arms after the blond’s neck. “But in all seriousness, are you okay?”

Laurent pauses for a second. “I’m not sure if I was too rough on her.” He sighs, resting his head on the other’s shoulder. “I care a lot about you and… and your father. I might have reacted a bit impulsively.”

“I-I’m not the best with these types of things but I think communication is pretty important, yeah? If you two have a talk and, um, explain your different point of views and come to a compromise?” the young man tries advising.

The Frenchman brings their foreheads together, careful to not touch any bruise. Calm waves, birds chirping and rustling leaves can be heard. “Makoto?” he gently speaks.

“Yes?” 

“I love you.”

The brunette softly gasps before flashing his brightest smile. “I love you too.” He feels their lips being slowly attracted like magnets. His heart beats faster and faster with anticipation. They brush together, ever so slightly, before Makoto properly makes their lips meet. Tenderly, at first, then it gradually intensifies to where he clings at Laurent as if he’s in the only solid thing in a dizzy swaying world. Swimming in giddiness neither can focus on anything other than this aphrodisiac feeling. And if a certain father happens to take a picture to immortalise that magical moment, no witness can attest.

* * *

“So what are you guys planning to do with your money?” Abbie asks as the three of them are watching a movie no one is really paying attention to.

Laurent holds his chin for a few seconds before responding, “I think I’ll be smart this time and invest it.”

“Booooo!” She gestures a thumbs down. “I want to visit Ireland, I heard people there are wild.”

“I… I want to get top surgery.” Makoto fidgets with his scarf.

“Woah!” exclaims Abbie, looking at the man. “That’s a pretty big thing, yeah? We should celebrate!”

Laurent snorts next to her. “Or are you looking for an excuse to get wasted?”

“Pffft, as if a little drink’s gonna hurt me.” She waves it off.

“We did get high two days ago,” the blond adds.

Makoto cringes at the thought. “Yeah, that was… definitely fun… hahaha.”

“Fine, _fine,_ I’ll stay a good little angel. But only for you guys.” She huffs, crossing her arms.

They all stare at the screen and groan. “We should definitely change of movie,” Laurent suggests.

“Mhm, like what?” questions Makoto.

“I know, I know! The Razzie series,” Abbie snorts and the Japanese man joins her, wheezing as he clutches his stomach.

“Don’t tell padre but I couldn’t stop laughing when I tried watching them. I think it goes in the same category as The Room.” 

Footsteps quickly arrive in their direction. “What is it I heard, my sweet, loving figlio?”

“Oh shit, Edamame, run!” Abbie tries stifling her laugh as she watches the man shriek and running to hide behind a column.

“I’m sorry padre, please don’t kill me!” Makoto tries saying in between giggles.

Eddie easily catches up with the young man, grinning as he starts torturing him with tickles.

“Nooooo-o-oh hahahaha n-not the tick- hahaha Laurent hee-e-e-elp-” The scarf comes loose. Eddie suddenly stops as his eyes comically widen.

Laurent feels himself starting to sweat. “I’ll just, um…” he spots the closest door. “Bye!” He quickly runs away.

Abbie cackles loudly. “Oh, this is so much better than a movie!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we actually hit 1k hits in less than 2 weeks, thank you so much everyone! thinking back to when I first started, so many ideas I had just changed on the spot when i actually wrote them.
> 
> for example, in the beginning I was thinking of writing a darker Makoto that would actually end up killing Eddie after the lab explosion. CAN YOU IMAGINE??? or Makoto beating the shit out of Cynthia because he thought his two friends died. like i don't even have a fully fleshed out idea for case 2 but imma just wing it, but you're also free to leave me suggestions!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't had top surgery yet so I could only base myself off of my other surgery and research. I really apologise for any inaccuracies and please correct me if possible!

**_2 months later_ **

“Holy shit, I can’t believe this is happening,” whispers Makoto as he’s standing in the surgeon’s office. He’s feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement. He looks around, playing with his sleeve when the door opens, showing a woman with smooth caramel skin and black locks tied in an intricate bun. She gives him a handshake before they both sit down.

“Good afternoon, I’m Dr Montilyet.” She offers the brunette a warm smile. 

“It’s very nice to meet you. My name’s Makoto.”

She scribbles on a document before looking back at the man. “Will you allow me to look at your chest, Makoto?”

“Y-Yeah, is there a place where…” he trails off, starting to feel shy.

“Over there will be fine.” She points at the adjoined room with curtains.

Makoto silently nods, walking to where his surgeon mentioned and removes his bag. Exhaling, he takes off his top along with his binder. As he timidly comes back, he watches the doctor put on gloves and avoids her gaze. 

“This won’t take long,” she tries reassuring the man. The brunette tries to not cringe at the contact of her hands on his chest. A few long seconds later, she writes again on the clipboard she’s holding. “The elasticity varies depending on how long you’ve been binding. I usually see this result with patients who bound unsafely. Is that something you’ve done?”

“I… yeah… a few times I bound my chest for longer than I was supposed to.” He looks away embarrassed.

She taps her pen against the clipboard. “In this case, also considering your size, I would suggest double incision for a better result.”

It would leave an obvious scar, but it would best to pick the safest option. “I-I understand, we can go with that.”

“Excellent,” she happily nods. “You can put your clothes back on, there are a few things I need to talk with you.

The Japanese man hastily puts back his Supreme sweater and sits back in the chair facing the doctor. “So, um, what do we need to discuss?”

“I will be giving you a prescription for a disinfecting solution. You can easily use it in the shower after regular soap.” She hands him a piece of paper. “As for the surgery’s date, I believe we have a place next month. We will call you a week prior to confirm the date. And before you leave, we’ll need a few blood samples.” Makoto blanches at the last sentence, earning a giggle from Dr Montilyet. “Don’t worry, Cassandra is a lovely nurse and she has experience with people like you.”

Makoto nods, feeling slightly relieved. “Thank you for everything, Doctor.” 

“I’m looking forward to seeing you again, Makoto.”

* * *

**_1 month later_ **

“Are you okay, little soybean? Oh dear, you’re shaking,” Laurent exclaims, hugging the other man. 

Makoto clings tightly onto his boyfriend. “Y-Yeah, I just… never had a surgery before. I’m not sure what to expect.”

“What will happen is,” he kisses his forehead, “you’ll fall asleep very quickly,” he then pecks his nose, “and before you know it, you’ll wake up and everything will be over.” He finishes by kissing the brunette on the lips. They slowly part away, their gaze meeting.

“Thank you…” He relaxes in the blond’s hold. “For everything, even if you’re a bastard sometimes.”

The other man smirks. “That’s just part of my charm.”

“Don’t get cocky now.”

No other word is exchanged. However, their mouths stay very occupied.

* * *

Makoto didn’t sleep very well but he’s not much bothered since he’ll be sleeping a lot the next few days. Abbie threatens him to not die, which is oddly sweet. He doesn’t doubt she’d fight a god for his sake. He tries calming down his father who is even more anxious than himself. He remembers the day he came out to his padre, the man asked when they could finally start eating and Makoto couldn’t stop laughing. Regardless, his heart swells with love knowing he’s surrounded by such caring people. 

Salazar became his unofficial chauffeur and gladly offers to drive him to the clinic. Laurent joins the young man and holds his hand the entire time, which is very appreciated. He says a final goodbye to the bodyguard and steps inside the clinic.

Makoto is offered a warm welcome and is guided to his future room where he speaks to the anaesthetist and signs a few legal papers. A lot of his stress leaves after that talk, leaving him a few minutes to spend with the Frenchman before his surgeon arrives.

“That gown truly is atrocious,” Laurent jokes in a posh accent.

The smaller man spins around. “I believe that’s where you’re wrong, my dear. I can already see it in the next cover of Vogue,” he snorts.

There’s a knock at the door and he recognises the nurse. She was very patient with him and he didn’t even faint from the needle. She hands him a small goblet containing a Xanax pill. _Free drugs, hell yeah._ He’s then guided to a stretcher where they install an oxygen tube in his nose. Moreover, he gets a heated blanket on him and instantly melts, almost literally. “Oh my _god_ , Laurent, I’ve got to buy one of these,” he blurts out as the stretcher is being pushed.

He hears the other chuckle. “I’ll make sure to remind you, mon ange.”

“I’m afraid this is as far as you can go,” Cassandra tells Laurent as they stop.

“I’ll be there when you wake up,” he reassures with a warm smile.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

The nurse continues pushing the stretcher and they arrive somewhere very bright with loud fans. The operation room, he realises. He sees a few more people and notices Dr Montilyet amongst them. “Can you move on the table for us?” he hears from a woman with ginger hair. It’s right alongside the stretcher yet the effort seems immense. He does the best he can with his jelly arms and eventually succeeds. He closes his eyes and slightly whimpers from the IV inserted in his wrist. “That was the worst one, but this one will be less painful.” The needle prickles, but it’s not as bad.

“Is that the one that will… make me sleepy?” His Japanese accent is thicker.

“That’s right, you just need to relax or... count down from ten. Most people can’t even go past seven.” The feminine voice starts fading out.

_That’s crazy, it can’t be that-_

* * *

The first thing Makoto hears is a recurrent beeping. His chest hurts but the pain is tolerable. He tries opening his eyelids that feel very heavy. From his blurry vision, he thinks he can see a yellow spot. “Eugh…” he tries speaking but his throat feels so dry. Blinking again, he can now see it’s his boyfriend. The man suddenly stands up.

“How are you feeling? Do you need anything?” Laurent worriedly asks. 

“Thir… sssy.” He rubs his aching throat.

“I’ll get some ice chips!” Makoto closes his eyes and soon enough, he can welcome the cold feeling in his throat. A hand strokes his head and he quickly falls back asleep.

* * *

The next time he wakes up, a hand is holding his. It’s not Laurent’s. That, he can easily distinguish. It’s bigger and rougher. “Mhm… padre?” 

“Oh, Makoto, I’m so glad you’re alive,” he hears the man sniff.

He can’t help but laugh. _Motherf- bad idea. No laughing._ “Of course I’m alive, I’m like… a cockroach, impossible to kill,” he grins.

“I’m so happy for you, figlio.” His father kisses his forehead.

The brunette slightly blushes. “T-Thank you, it… it means a lot." He bites his lips. "Could I ask you for something to drink?”

“Of course, I’ll be right back.”

Makoto takes a moment to look around him. He’s covered in bandages, wearing some sort of binder on top. There’s an IV pole next to him along with a drain. He almost groans in embarrassment as he notices the catheter. He’s lucky enough to have a TV in his room but that surely won’t be for now. Looking at the window, he can see it’s now the evening. He can hear footsteps getting closer and Eddie arrives with a cup of orange juice. “Thank you, padre.” He takes small sips until he empties the cup. “Could you… tell me a story?”

“Mhm… let me tell you about the time I went to Egypt,” he begins, and the Japanese man lets himself be lullabied by tales of extreme heat and camel riding. More like camel falling, by the sound of it.

* * *

Makoto awakens in the middle of the night, he believes. Someone’s snoring next to him. _Oh, it’s Abbie._ _Should I wake her up or… nevermind, she has spidey senses._ “Hey, not too uncomfortable?” 

“Ehh, I’ve slept in worse places.” She cracks her neck. “What about you? You look a little green…”

He places a hand over his mouth. “I think I’m gonna-”

“Oh shit shit shit shit-” She quickly runs and takes the nearest trash can. 

Makoto empties his stomach for only liquid to come out. _So long, orange juice._ He pants for a bit, then mutters, “Sorry you had to see that, ugh.”

Abbie rubs circles across his back. “It happens to everyone, man. Better than choking on your vomit in your sleep.”

He weakly chuckles. “That’s a lame way to die.” He pauses and looks at her. “So how the hell are you able to be here at this hour?”

She smirks mischievously. “Nothing that your sugar daddy can’t help with.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” He stops himself from laughing, “You have got to stop with that.”

Abbie sits on the bed. “But isn’t that what he literally is? A loaded father?”

“I mean… yeah, but in that way…” he shudders. “Gross, just ew ew ew.”

“You’re adorable, Edamame, but you should probably go sleep now or a nurse is gonna kill me.”

“Isn’t that the opposite of wha-”

“Shhh, close those pretty eyes of yours.”

Makoto rolls his eyes but obeys her, letting sleep overcome him.

* * *

The next time he wakes up, he finds himself alone. He still feels a bit nauseous and wonders what’s causing it. As if the universe heard him, a handsome nurse with short blond hair comes into his room carrying a tray. 

“Oh, good morning.” He sounds surprised to see him awake. “I was just about to wake you up for your medicine.”

“Ah, about that, I think I’m allergic to the pain medication I’m on. It’s making me pretty nauseous…” He rubs his stomach.

“We can change that, no problem. I’ll be right back but in the meantime, please take this.” The nurse puts several pills of different colours in front of him along with a cup of water. One is particularly big and he’s nervous about swallowing. _Ha, that’s what she said._

Another nurse enters -Cassandra, he thinks- and doesn’t feel good about the syringe held in her hand. “I’m aware you’re not a fan of needles. However, this is important to stop your blood from clotting.”

“I… sure… that’s fine,” Makoto reluctantly responds. He’s instructed to uncover his stomach and feels the cold from an alcohol wipe. Cassandra starts giving him the shot and _holy fucking shit._ There has to be liquid fire in there for his stomach to literally burn. He wants to cry out of relief when it’s finally over and isn’t it just great he’s supposed to receive another one _tonight_? 

The handsome nurse comes back, distracting him from the pain. “This is morphine, do you have any reaction with that one?” the man asks as he removes the liquid Dilaudid away from him.

“Not that I know of.” The brunette shakes his head and swallows the small pill.

“If you feel uncomfortable, don’t hesitate to ask for help. My name’s Cullen, by the way.” The blond flashes a smile showing perfect teeth. 

“Oh- um- I’m Makoto,” he feels blood rising to his cheeks. _Get a fucking grip._ Someone clearing their throat breaks the tension and the Japanese man sees a second blond at the threshold. 

“I think that’s my cue to leave.” Cullen salutes both of them, taking back the tray.

Laurent stares at the blond leaving before asking, “So who was that?”

“J-J-Just a nurse!” The young man looks away ashamed. He feels a hand intertwining with his. 

“Makoto, it’s perfectly fine and healthy to find others attractive while you’re in a relationship,” comforts the Frenchman, kissing his partner’s hand.

“It is?” He gasps.

The other nods. “As long as there’s a clear boundary and no romantic feelings involved. And I’ll admit, he’s a rather fetching man.”

Makoto chuckles with relief. “ _Right?"_

* * *

It’s his third day here and Makoto can finally have a proper talk with his surgeon. 

“Hello Makoto, how are you feeling today?” she asks as she sits close to him, once again holding a clipboard.

“I think I’m getting better, I was able to walk for a bit but I can’t lift my arms that much.”

“We encourage you to not lift anything heavier than five pounds for the next three months. Or engage in any sport, for that matter,” Dr Montilyet informs the brunette. “Seeing that there’s no complication, we judge you’re ready to go home so let me tell you the procedure.”

“Right, of course,” he nods.

“You’ll be keeping the postoperative binder and drain on you. For the drain, you’ll come back here in a week and we’ll remove it. As for the binder, that will be in three weeks. Unfortunately, you’ll have to clean yourself with soap and towels in the meantime.” Makoto cringes at that. “I’ll also give you a prescription for acetaminophen and iron supplements. And… I believe that’s all unless you have any questions?”

He hums for a second. “I think that’s it.” He receives a handshake from the doctor. 

“I hope you have a wonderful recovery.” She beams with a positive aura.

“Thank you!” Not long after, familiar faces appear in his sight, including Laurent holding a giant bouquet. “Everyone… you’re all here.” He slowly stands and is engulfed by arms. He welcomes the warm embrace as he feels his eyes start watering. “愛してる- I love you all so much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't stop myself from making dragon age references and I have no regrets
> 
> btw this chapter was heavily inspired by my own experience. let me say it wasn't fun throwing up orange juice and chicken noodle soup. and that tummy shot... i will never forget


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i said there would be art for this chapter. unfortunately, my friend's not feeling too gucci at the moment. if you wanna send him some love, here's his [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/caius.micio/) and tell him Loki sent ya ;D

It’s been a few months since Makoto’s surgery. The recovery was harder than he thought. He wasn’t the type to ask for help and needing someone for any simple task was hard on his ego. The iron supplements tasted like shit and during November, his scars constantly ached. However, despite everything, to be able to see his chest flat for the first time was the happiest moment of his life.

Laurent, Abbie and he are still residents of his father’s mansion and unlike what others would expect, the man is actually insisting for them to stay. Makoto definitely isn’t against that. Embarrassingly enough, he started enjoying the luxurious lifestyle. It doesn’t help that the producer keeps spoiling him! 

His boyfriend suggested that he starts learning aircraft mechanic skills for their next con. Lucky for them, anything can be found in L.A., including courses in mechanical engineering. If Makoto’s gonna be learning a new skill, he’ll do it properly, dammit.

Before the brunette can register himself for the winter session, he’ll need his father’s help to create a high school diploma. Being an illegal immigrant is not all fun and games.

* * *

American schools, or college alone, is something Makoto never experienced in the past. It’s big, confusing and… a little scary. He doesn’t need to remove his shoes and wear uwabaki, no obligatory uniforms, there’s an actual cafeteria and his classroom is _huge._ He finds a seat in the back and takes out his new Macbook Pro, another gift from his father. His teacher arrives and the hushed whispers promptly stop. The Japanese man cracks his fingers and prepares himself, not expecting to type at the speed of light.

* * *

Here is Makoto, a year and a half later, completing his final practical exam. He finishes before anyone else and announces it to the examiner. As she carefully looks at his work, the brunette anxiously fidgets with his keychain. He studied like crazy, double-checked every little detail, yet he can’t stop that small part of his brain doubting his execution. 

She checks off several boxes and he wishes he could know whether it’s a good or bad sign. Makoto decides to look at the other students; some looking as nervous as him -and even more- and others behaving as if it’s a normal Wednesday.

“Makoto, is it?” The man turns towards the examiner. Seeing as she gained his attention, she continues. “You did an excellent job. Your time was well managed and I can see you took great care of minor details. With that said, congratulations on almost having a perfect score!” She claps her hands.

Makoto receives a few envious looks at him as his shoulders slump with relief. He can be a professional and legitimate aircraft mechanic! He shortly bows in front of the woman before thanking her. A graduation ceremony is not something that ever interested him and he's just as happy to receive his diploma by mail.

Grabbing his bag, he leaves the premises to walk towards the subway. The attention he received from the limousine was getting troublesome and besides, he enjoys exploring the city now that he has a functional phone.

* * *

“I did it!” he loudly exclaims as soon as he passes the threshold. Abbie and Laurent rush to the Japanese man. He feels a hand ruffling his head, ruining his attempt this morning at styling his hair. 

“I knew you would nail it,” she largely grins. 

The blond kisses his cheek and Abbie does the same, making the brunette flustered. “I’m so proud of you, little soybean.” Laurent kisses him again, this time on the lips. As Makoto deepens the kiss, the woman next to them groans from the display of affection.

Abbie goes to a cabinet and browses through alcohol bottles before taking one out. “Now it’s time to get shit-faced!” She waves a bottle of tequila. 

Makoto breaks the kiss to raise an eyebrow at her. “In the… middle of the day?”

“Why not, it’s night somewhere in the world.” She shrugs her shoulders.

The Frenchman reaches into his pocket and brandishes a small Ziploc bag. “This morning, Eddie gave me a little something.”

“Is that…” Makoto starts.

“Shrooms!” cries Abbie, throwing her hands in the air. “Screw tequila, it’s time for an emotional breakthrough.”

The brunette ponders for a moment. “If we’re doing this, we need a proper environment. Mhmm… a blanket fort, snacks, water and lights.”

“On it, chief.” She makes a military salute and runs to grab blankets and pillows. Makoto heads to the kitchen, grabbing a few snacks and water bottles as Laurent moves the furniture to create space. Abbies comes back, her hands full, and they start building the fort with the help of chairs. After adding a few decorations and playing The Doors, they feel satisfied with the result. The Japanese man brings out an electrical scale.

“From what I read, three grams is a nice dose for first-timers.” He measures the magic mushrooms, giving an equal portion to everyone.

“On the count of three?” proposes Laurent with a smirk.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

They munch and swallow their mushroom at the same time. Abbie rubs her hands together, grinning. “And now we wait.”

* * *

Only twenty minutes later and the sound suddenly grows loud, as if someone decided to turn up the volume. He lifts an arm, then a foot, and notes with relief that his body isn’t paralysed. 

He closes his eyes and it feels as if his eyelids become a screen, random images erupting. By blinking, he could change the channel. He starts giggling and his boyfriend joins him, also laughing. Makoto touches the other’s arm, gasping.

“Your skin… it feels so smooth.” He keeps caressing his arm, mouth still agape. “Can I wear your skin? It just looks so comfortable.”

The blond strokes the man’s cheek. “Maybe we can share the same skin and be together forever.”

“Not creepy at all..." Abbie chimes in. “Okay, so like, assuming the bible is real, God created us but who created God?”

“Uh… that’s a good question.” Makoto squints his eyes.

“Did he create himself and if so, how? Did someone else create him? Does that mean there's more than one god?”

Laurent joins the conversation. “I believe in multiple gods, although… I don’t really practice magick.”

The brunette hums in interest. “I don’t even know what to believe in.”

“Do you think God stays in heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he’s created?” the blond tries quoting without laughing.

Abbie starts wheezing. “Nooo, you _didn’t._ ”

Makoto stares at them with a lost look. “Eh?”

"You know, from that second Spy Kids movie."

“Ehhhh?” 

She looks almost offended. "How did you spend your childhood?!"

"In Japan." He deadpans

* * *

It’s a few days after their trippy experience when they organise a meetup with Cynthia in Singapore. It’s no surprise that they can have one of Eddie’s private jets. As Makoto is packing everything essential in his luggage, a question pops in his mind. “Hey, Laurent?” 

The blond looks at him with his beautiful eyes. “What’s up, babyboy?”

The Japanese man euphorically smiles, quickly kissing him. “How long do you think the con will take?”

Laurent hums. “I doubt it’ll last more than two months.”

He mentally calculates the number of clothes he needs to bring and a possible prescription refill. “Do you think we could, um, visit Japan after everything?”

“Of course, anything for you,” he squeezes his hand. Makoto really loves this man.

An hour later, he struggles to close his luggage. Perhaps he put a _little_ too much in there. Sitting on the damn thing, he pulls after the zipper with all the strength he has. “Don’t you _dare_ laugh,” he threatens at his boyfriend.

“Whatever gave you the impression?” Laurent hides his mouth, stifling a laugh.

The brunette sighs in defeat, dramatically crumbling on the floor. “I barely brought the minimum, what do I dooooo?”

“It’s done.”

“What?”

“I zipped your luggage,” Laurent says with a completely straight face.

Makoto suddenly stands up. “No fucking way. How?!”

The blond wiggles his fingers. “I’ve got magic hands.” The smaller man huffs, turning his back against him. “I thought you’d appreciate the help.” He’s met with silence. “Come on, talk to me.” More silence. He sighs. “Ce que t’es un enfant parfois…”

“I-I’m not a brat!” Makoto pushes the Frenchman in the bed’s direction, pinning him down. He blushes from their position. “あほ...” 

“Please do continue, I’m enjoying this,” Laurent devilishly smirks.

Makoto kisses the other to shut him up. It’s rough and raw, reflecting his anger. Teeth are used, lips are bitten and blood is tasted. He slowly pulls away, heavily panting, then plunges in again. Their hands intertwine as their body grind together, earning a groan from both. He bites the blond’s earlobe before grunting, “Let me take you, please.”

“I’m all yours,” Laurent purrs, arousal in his voice. Makoto hastily unbuttons his stupid Hawaiian shirt, throwing it away. Hands are shifting around as more clothes fall on the floor.

The Japanese man takes a second to admire the blond’s form, his fingers tracing along his body. “Beautiful…”

“I should be telling you this,” gently speaks Laurent. They kiss again, this time softly. The taller man reaches into the nightstand before they become more passionate. It doesn’t take long for moans and whimpers to be heard from the two and they couldn't care less about the bed frame hitting the wall. Makoto finds himself with nail scratches across his back as Laurent gains teeth marks over his chest. 

Soon after, the brunette satisfyingly cuddles with his boyfriend. The sound of the other man’s heartbeat slowly lulls him to sleep, but not before he feels a kiss on his forehead.

* * *

Makoto gasps at the waterfall inside the Changi Airport, heavy luggage in hand. He then stares at the green vegetation surrounding them. A hand clasps his shoulder and he turns to face Abbie. “What’s up? You look troubled.”

She digs her nails into her other palm, a gesture he’s all too familiar with. He softly takes her hand, unclasping each finger. “It’s just… the whole thing with Cynthia.” she hesitates.

“Need to talk about it?” 

She looks away before shaking her head. “Nevermind, it’s fine, I can do this.”

“Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me.” He warmly smiles at her.

Abbie returns the smile. “Yeah, in the same room,” she snorts. “And Edamame, please keep it down next time.” She enjoys watching his face burn in embarrassment.

* * *

To say the situation is awkward would be an understatement. You could cut the tension with a knife. Laurent clears his throat in the hotel room, but to no avail, Abbie still glares daggers at the redhead. He takes out two pictures, showing them to Makoto who is at least paying attention. “These two are our fishes this time.” She seems a bit interested now. “The sly-looking one is Sam Ibrahim. The cheerful hottie is Clark Ibrahim, the pilot. Princes from a country with oil.”

The Japanese man admits he would be slightly interested in Clark if he wasn’t in a relationship.

“Prince Sam is running a monopoly called Path Finder Air Race. We’re here to participate in the Singapore round and take his 200-million-dollar fortune.”

Both Makoto and Abbie look at each other, gasping from the number as Cynthia stays silent, looking down. “W-What would we even do with that much?” the brunette exclaims.

“Anything your heart desires, my little soybean,” smoothly adds the Frenchman. “But in the meantime, Abbie, you should warm up your piloting skills.”

Her face turns slightly sour. “Yeah... of course.”

“I...” Cynthia finally speaks up, addressing Laurent. “I don’t think Abbie should-”

“Because now you claim to know what’s good and bad for me?” she growls.

Makoto winces, hoping to dispose of the bomb before it explodes. He stands in between the two women. “Let’s do this calmly, please.”

Abbie scuffs. “Just give me another chance, I promise I’ll be better,” she imitates what Makoto assumes to be Cynthia’s voice. “And she _always_ breaks her promises, over and over. And you have the audacity to act hurt when I break up with you!” she lashes out at the redhead who’s at the verge of tears, pushing away Makoto and lifting her by the shirt’s collar. She stays limp, making the dark-haired girl snarl. “Fight back, you cunt!”

_“Stop!”_ Laurent loudly orders. Everyone freezes. “Bordel de merde… Abbie, for the love of- just, go out.”

“Tch.” 

They hear the door slam and the brunette hurries to Cynthia, now that she’s freely sobbing. He feels arms tightly gripping after him and holds her close. “I'm j-just like him now… god, I’m such a hypocrite.”

Makoto sighs, stroking her head. “I can’t say I know you well, and I have to admit I didn’t like you at first,” he winces. “No one is perfect. I don’t think it’s good if you keep making the same mistake and not learn from it.” The redhead looks down, sniffing. “If you want to change, don’t forget about your guilt. Take the hurt, and channel it into making a better version of you.” She silently nods and the blond shares an impressed look. “I’ve been reading philosophy,” he says with a small smile.

The other man joins in. “With our previous mission, although I was disappointed, I’ve... come to forgive you. I apologise for bringing you here, I wasn’t aware your situation with Abbie was so… finicky. I have to admit I’m not sure what to do.” He looks at his boyfriend, hoping for guidance.

He scratches his head. “It wouldn’t be a good idea for the two to be in the same room again. Maybe if we replaced one of them- wait, what’s Cynthia’s job?”

“Basically bringing down Sam’s guard by seducing him.”

They settle more comfortably on the leather couch as they discuss the details. “Do you know his preferences?” asks the Japanese man.

“Young women, emphasis on the young,” the Frenchman cringes.

“So we have the option of finding a young woman who fits beauty standards and is good at acting, in two months. Another one is if these two can somehow reconcile. Or… you can try finding another skilled pilot.”

“And what’s plan D?” Cynthia bitterly chuckles.

Makoto stares at Laurent. “We could use Clark to our advantage?”

“Turning him against his own brother?” He stares at the other man in disbelief. 

“I just mean… if I get close to him, using my mechanical job as an excuse, then happen to meet his brother and I don’t know, stay late for the night and wait for him to fall asleep. I get a hold of his wallet, which probably contains his credit and debit card… see where I’m going?”

Laurent groans. “We either need a new pilot, some eye candy or a hacker in two months. I swear this is the last con we’re doing.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that,” snorts Makoto. The taller man hums, suddenly looking nostalgic.

Cynthia clears her throat. “Or there’s the option of a possible friendship. I can… try fixing my mess.”

The brunette smiles. “A step in the right direction.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so,,,,
> 
> i don't even know which route to follow for future chapters so please PLEASE help me decide what you think is best o(╥﹏╥)o


	12. Chapter 12

Makoto is anxiously biting his nails, eyes glued to his phone screen. He hasn’t had any texts from Abbie and now that it’s midnight, he’s starting to imagine the worst. He stares at the man lying half-conscious on his lap. Laurent expected the woman to be back after an hour but the brunette knows he’s also concerned. He sighs, abandoning the idea of staying here while his friend could be in danger. Carefully lifting his boyfriend’s head, he stands up and looks for a piece of paper and a pencil. ‘ _Heading outside to find Abbie XOX’_ he writes, then places the note on the closest table. He pecks the blond’s lips then heads outside. He curses, realising he forgot to take the room’s key card, but at least he has his phone. 

And that’s how he finds himself standing in the city without knowing a hint of Malay. He zips his leather jacket, feeling the night’s chilly air. He looks around the tall buildings, pondering where his friend could be. _If I was Abbie, where would I go? Maybe a bar? There’s one just across the street._ TAP Craft Beer Bar, the neon sign says. He hears the sound of hard rock along with laughter as he enters. The brunette quickly scans the area and his heart drops from not seeing any trace of the woman. He frustratingly grips after his hair, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. _This was a stupid idea. She could literally be anywhere. What do I do? What if she’s injured?_ A hand settles on his shoulder and he flinches. Makoto instinctively twists the stranger’s arm and freezes as he sees Clark’s face. 

“O-Oh, I’m so sorry!” He panics, releasing his grip. This is not how he wanted his first impression with his target to go. 

The attractive man smiles at him, unbothered. “No need to apologise. Are you okay? You look like you could use a drink.” Makoto bites his lips, considering the option. As if feeling his uncertainty, Clark insists. “It’s on me.”

The Japanese man signs in defeat. Abbie’s a ferocious girl, surely she just wandered outside and will come back safely. As if the universe heard him, he receives a text from his boyfriend.

> _i thought there was an earthquake but it was just abbie pounding on the door_
> 
> _cynthia got a separate room btw_
> 
> **_omg that’s such a relief!! i was looking for her at a bar_ **
> 
> **_i guess i'll go grab a drink (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و_ **
> 
> _stay safe babyboy_

Makoto smiles from the text, putting away his phone and smirks at the pilot. “Alright, I accept your proposition.” He follows the man as they sit on bar stools. 

Clark raises his hand, gaining the attention of the bartender. “Four blowjobs, please,” he requests. The young man almost chokes before reminding himself that it’s also the name of a drink. The other watches him in amusement. “I wonder what got you so flustered.”

He clears his throat. “Just, uh… kind of a shocking name.” He unzips his jacket, welcoming the cool breeze. 

The Arab man leans onto the bar top. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure to know your name.”

“Oh, Makoto. I mean- my name’s Makoto. You’re Clark Ibrahim, right.” He asks, watching the 4 shots arrive in front of them. 

His eyes slightly widen before returning to his usual flirtatious smile. “Right on point.” He eyes their drinks. “Well, Makoto, bottoms up!”

The brunette puts his hand behind his back before picking the shot glass with his mouth and tilts his head back. He enjoys the sweet and creamy flavour invading his mouth. Licking his lips, he glances back to the pilot who also drank the shot hands-free. 

“Do you happen to be a fan?” The other asks Makoto, leaning closer to him. 

He feels a fish biting his metaphorical fishing hook. “Y-Yeah, you’re the one who inspired me to become a mechanic,” he acts timid. Technically, it’s not a full lie. 

“I did?” The man lightly blushes. “That’s very touching of you.” He downs his second shot and Makoto follows.

“You did, and I wasn’t expecting to see you so early before the competition.” He giggles the same way he knows Laurent finds adorable

Clark’s smile brightens. “I like to spend time here. Singapore is a beautiful city. Beautiful people too.” He brings his face closer.

“How about we try a new drink?” He might want to get closer to him but that doesn't mean he wants to get in his pants.

The other slowly retracts himself, returning to a more casual pose. “What do you feel like having?”

_He’s quite attentive, good at reading the room. I need to be careful._ “Something a bit refreshing, like a daiquiri.”

“I like the way you think, Makoto,” he winks at the Japanese man. “One daiquiri and whiskey sour, please.”

It doesn’t take long for their drinks to come and Clark keeps flirting, although he’s a bit tamer now. Makoto admits that despite having to force smiles and laughs, he does enjoy the man’s company. Their glasses quickly empty and the pilot calls for another round. A Manhattan, was it? It tastes quite boozy. Soon enough his laughs aren’t forced anymore. Actually, he finds himself laughing at practically anything. He doesn’t seem to mind the hand caressing his arm, jacket long forgotten on the floor. 

“Come to my room later~” the taller man proposes.

For a split second, he wants to. Makoto weakly shakes his head. “At least... bring me on 'nother date,” he jokes, not realising Clark will mark his words.

“Then come visit me, uh, during practice tomorrow.” He hands him his phone then pays his tab to the bartender

No password. Makoto needs to remember this. He supposes he should enter his phone number. After a painful amount of times, he finally types his name without typos along with his number. He gives the phone back to the smiling man. 

“Fiiine, I’ll be there.” He tries standing up only for his balance to betray him. He’s caught in the pilot’s lean arms and laughs in embarrassment. 

“Need help getting home?” He grabs the brunette’s leather jacket, helping him put it back on.

“Mmkay, sure.” He grabs onto the man, both slowly walking out of the bar. “It’s like, the hotel right in front.”

“No way! Conrad… uh, something something?”

“Yuh-uh.”

“I’m also there!” They both start laughing and Clark opens the hotel’s door, ignoring the looks from the staff. 

“What are the odds?” snorts Makoto, pushing the up arrow of the elevator. 

As the door opens, they step inside the elevator. “Wait until I tell Sam about this.” 

“Huh?” He selects the 8th floor as Clark goes to the penthouse. 

“My brother, but he’s always so grumpyyy.”

“How dreadful,” he responds, not even hiding his smile. _Ding._ The door opens to his floor. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Clark.”

The pilot smirks. “You better prepare yourself.”

They wave goodbye as Makoto sways into the corridor. Thankfully he remembered the number of their room. He knocks a few times and a blond head answers. 

“Heyyy, I’m back.” He nuzzles his head in Laurent’s chest. 

The Frenchman ruffles his brown locks. “I see my little soybean enjoyed himself quite a lot,” he chuckles.

“Mhmm, turns out Clark is a pretty nice guy.”

He stops in his tracks, smile faltering. “Clark? You mean…”

“Our target’s brother, yeah! Earning his trust was sooo easy,” the brunette cockily exclaims. His eyes drift to the figure eating roasted almonds on the couch. “Abbie!” he cries out, leaving Laurent’s embrace and stumbling towards her. He gives his friend a warm hug.

“Hey…” she shyly responds. “Sorry for worrying you. And for earlier… I know I need to work on that.”

“Where in Oblivion where you?!”

She looks down. “Just… exploring.” She watches Makoto’s blank stare at her bruised knuckles and sighs. “Fine, I punched a few assholes who were trying to assault a girl. Then, you know, after that I helped her and didn't see time passing.”

The Japanese man chuckles. “I’m not surprised. But… please promise me you’ll try talking to Cynthia without killing her.”

“Welp, I’m gonna get some rest.” Abbie heads to her bedroom.

“Promise me!” he shouts, following her.

“The things I do for you.” She slowly smiles, patting his shoulder then closes the door.

Makoto feels arms wrapping around his waist and relishes the warmth. Laurent gently kisses his neck as he softly pants. The brunette almost shivers as the other travels his hands under his shirt, feeling his toned chest from working out. Hot breath hits his neck before the blond whispers, “Would you allow anyone else to do this?”

“O-Only you.” He turns around and cups the taller man’s cheeks. “I love you, Laurent. No one will stand in between us, that also means Clark.” Their lips meet as Makoto brings him closer. Their kiss deepens to the low rumbling of the city.

* * *

Makoto’s calmly eating breakfast they received from room service with his boyfriend when Abbie comes out of the bathroom, done showering. He almost chokes on food seeing as she’s completely naked.

“Oooh, that looks good,” she gawks, snatching a fork and taking a bite of his eggs benedict.

“A-Abbie!” He covers his eyes, a blush rising to his cheeks. Laurent continues eating, nonchalant about it.

“It’s not like we all haven’t seen each other naked,” she snorts.

The Japanese man embarrassingly groans. “I know but- please just- for my sake.”

She ruffles his hair. “So innocent.” Abbie strolls out laughing as Makoto pouts. 

“If it makes you feel better, I think it only makes you cuter,” Laurent winks.

He swallows before responding, “Yeah, I… thanks.” He lazily smiles. “Also, I uh, kind of promised Clark I’d go see him today.”

“Oh, is that so?” The blond tries keeping a cool face but Makoto knows he’s slightly bothered. 

“It’s only for the con, you know that.” He holds his hand, squeezing it.

Laurent breathes out. “You’re right, sorry. Of course, you can be friends with other guys.”

“Thank you, I knew you'd understand,” beams Makoto, 

Abbie waltz past them, wearing a blue tight-fitting dress. The Frenchman whistles at the sight. “What’s the occasion?”

She shrugs, repressing a smirk. “Dunno. Is it too short?”

“Um, kind of?” replies Makoto

“Good.” She confidently walks out, leaving Makoto still as confused. He takes out his phone and sees a notification from an unknown member. Clark, he assumes. 

> _heyyy ;)_
> 
> _(location pinged)_
> 
> _can’t wait to see u_
> 
> **_omw soon o(^∀^*)o_ **

Oh lord, what is he getting himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's diverging more from canon than i expected but boy oh boy do i have a lot of ideas ;)


	13. Chapter 13

Makoto watches his new friend tearing through the sky, the red plane professionally swooping across obstacles. He abruptly plunges straight down before smoothly gliding across the water, earning the screams of fangirls also witnessing his practice. The brunette had no idea the pilot had such a big Singaporean following. He wonders what it must be like to fly in the air, to be free of every day’s burdens. He could probably have a better score if Makoto took a look at his plane but perhaps helping his target is not the smartest decision. The race ends as fast as it started, and fans cheer again when Clark comes out of the cockpit to wave at them. He meets a few fans and signs some autographs before spotting the Japanese man in the crowd. “Sorry girls, I have important business with a friend.” He signals for the young man to follow him. 

Makoto tries carving a path for himself through the crowd, hearing the giggles of the few lucky girls who received a kiss from the man. Finally free of the claustrophobic feeling, he runs up to Clark who immediately hugs him. He smells of lilac and gooseberries, the scent almost intoxicating. Makoto stares into his eyes for a few seconds before breaking out of the hypnotising daze. Despite wearing platform shoes, Clark is still taller than him. “Do you kiss all your fans?” he jokes.

The pilot’s smirk widens as his gaze drops to his lips. “Why, do you also want one?” 

He huffs, crossings his arms. “I’ll have you know I’m not so easy.” _And I have a boyfriend,_ he leaves unsaid.

The other laughs, grabbing his arm and dragging him to a Ferrari convertible. Makoto gawks at the show of wealth. “I didn’t bring you with me just to flex. Hop on!” he encourages, patting the passenger seat. 

The brunette obeys and buckles his seatbelt before hearing the engine loudly roar. Clark steps on the gas pedal and abruptly speeds through the streets, ignoring the drivers honking from his clear lack of road safety. Makoto cackles, enjoying the wind blowing through his hair. He glances at the colourful decorations hanging after buildings and the vivid vegetation. He lifts his arms in the air, closing his eyes, and perhaps now he understands a bit more the liberating feeling that his friend must have when he flies.

They later arrive at Clark’s chosen destination. The pilot opens the trunk to grab beach towels and tosses a sunscreen bottle that Makoto thankfully does not drop and look like an idiot.

“We’re at.. the beach?” Makoto questions, removing his shoes before walking on the sand. 

“That’s some incredible observation skills you have,” snickers Clark as the other rolls his eyes.

“But what about your whole…” he gestures at his jumpsuit while they find an empty spot.

Clark unzips said jumpsuit and removes his t-shirt, only leaving him with his underwear. “You said?” he grins. 

The Japanese man tries very hard to not stare at his muscular physique. He fiddles after the hems of his shirt, suddenly feeling self-conscious. He never showed his scars in public before. However, he didn’t go through that damn surgery to miss the opportunity to finally be shirtless anywhere. He feels Clark’s curious look at his chest once he unbuttons his shirt. 

“Can I… ask what happened?” he requests in a soft tone Makoto never heard from the man before.

“I fought a bear all by myself,” the brunette claims with a smirk.

“And you did even better than Leonardo DiCaprio.” The taller man snorts and doesn’t inquire further. He takes the sunscreen bottle and signals for Makoto to come closer. “C’mon, I’ll do you- your back, I mean.”

He bites back a laugh. “I’m sure you’d like that.”

His fingers are calloused, likely from years of training. They skillfully run across his back, making the Japanese man want a massage from him. He expects Clark to be done there but on the contrary, the man continues applying sunscreen all over his body, being more gentle around his scars. He doesn’t have the heart to stop him and blushes anytime their eyes meet. As it’s Makoto’s turn, he tries not letting his thoughts betray him from the very prominent view. Truth be told, he’s rather relieved when he can stare anywhere else. 

The brunette lies on one of the beach towels, admiring the perfectly cloudless sky. There’s shuffling around and Clark sits close to him. “You mentioned you have a brother, is that right?”

“Yep, he’s only four years older than me but… definitely has some old-fashioned views.” His face sours.

“What kind of things does he enjoy?” Makoto asks in hopes to get more information. 

“Do you,” the pilot pauses, quirking an eyebrow, “have a crush on Sam?”

“No- nonono!” He frantically moves his arms around. “I’m just… curious about your family.”

Clark scratches his head. “Hmm, I guess he enjoys judging anyone who doesn’t fit his standards,” he bitterly chuckles. “To be honest, I have no idea, he barely opens up. Even I, his own flesh and blood, have a hard time getting through him. I don’t always agree with his decisions and opposing him never ends up well.”

“I’m… I’m sorry you have to deal with that. Are you still able to, um, do your own thing, if you know what I mean?” That settles it; seducing Sam will be impossible. But they’ll find another way to steal from him and he has not an ounce of guilt.

“When I’m not competing, sure. I have my own place in Canada. My investments pay off well enough so that I can have a comfortable life.” He cracks a smile then stands up. “Race you to the water!” He runs towards the sea.

“I wasn’t ready, that’s not fair!”

* * *

Makoto is floating like a feather, enveloped by a cocoon of heat. He jumps on the soft clouds then twirls around in the air. He catches a hint of salt in the atmosphere as he carefully avoids the birds flying next to him. Yet, a scarlet macaw bumps into him and there comes the explosion of lilac and gooseberries. It doesn’t shy away and Makoto carefully pets its soft plumage. Then, the bird changes into a humanistic shape, revealing an olive-skinned man with a charismatic smile. Warmth spreads throughout him as he guides his hands through the brunette’s hair, touching his forehead before stroking his tummy then it burnsburns _burns_ -

“Uh oh, I think you’ve got a sunburn.”

Makoto cracks an eye open and slightly winces, hiding the blinding sun with a hand. He turns his head to see Clark lying on the towel next to his. A stinging pain makes him glance at his stomach that’s now unnaturally red. “Well, fuck.” It seems like not even sunscreen can protect him. 

“I’ve got aloe vera gel at my place if you want…?” The Arab man stands up and dusts off the sand on him, putting back his clothes on.

Makoto cringes as he looks at the pile representing his outfit, especially the black shirt, reluctantly buttoning it again. “Alright, but only to help my sunburn,” he teases and receives a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have-”

He places a finger on his lips. “Hey, none of that. I had a good time, alright? But I do expect a really cool ride back to our hotel!” 

Clark grins as they eagerly bring back their things to the Ferrari.

* * *

Clark inserts the key card and hesitantly opens his room’s door to release a huge sigh of relief. “Thank God that Sam’s not here right now.” He lets the Japanese man enter first.

Makoto slowly walks in, observing the expensive decorations placed almost everywhere. “Is he that bad?” he snorts.

“You could say he’s almost paranoid.” The tall man heads to the immaculately clean bathroom, going through a cabinet and taking a bottle. “We’ve had many assassins sent to us in the past. I can’t even bring anyone here without him throwing a fit,” he sighs, handing the gel to the brunette.

Makoto winces after what he heard. “Thank you for this, Clark. I’ll try returning it as soon as possible.”

“Ehh, keep it. Consider it a gift for our new friendship.” He pats his shoulder.

_A friendship built on manipulation._ He forces a smile. “I’ll see you, uh, some other time?”

“I’m actually gonna be pretty occupied for the next few days but I’ll text you wh-” He stops when they hear the small beep from the door unlocking. “Go hide!” he fiercely whispers, gesturing to a bedroom that’s most likely Clark’s or so help him, God. 

Makoto wants to laugh and cry at the same time, but rather runs to hide under the bed. It’s like he’s in one of those cliché high school movies Abbie forces him to watch. He tries to eavesdrop on the conversation but it’s fully in Arabic, leaving him no chance of understanding whatsoever. It’s not as if he’s unaware that the competition’s rigged, anyway. He imagines Clark is not very happy about that but has no choice.

The conversation goes on for a few minutes until footsteps come closer to where he’s hiding. The brunette prepares himself for the worst until relief washes over him. He has never been so happy seeing Air Jordans in his life. Clark closes the door before calling out his name, whispering, of course.

“In here,” Makoto murmurs, crawling out from under the bed. He bites his lips, stopping any sound of pain from coming out. His friend helps him up and he feels ridiculous, still hanging onto the gel. 

“I’m sorry,” mumbles the pilot. “He’s still in the living room but I can distract him while you escape.” 

The Japanese man nods. “Sounds good.” He readies himself to be sneaky. Clark goes to talk to Sam again, this time guiding him outside to the balcony. The small man slowly peaks out his head and as the older brother faces his back with him, he swiftly heads to the door, careful to not bump on anything. He mutters a prayer after he sees the hallway, not wasting a second and runs to the elevator. Today might have been the worst day to wear something goth.

* * *

“Hey, guys.” He immediately takes off his shirt and kisses Laurent’s cheek. He starts appeasing his sunburn as soon as he can. 

“Damn, Edamame, you become a lobster or something?” Abbie laughs in surprise as she notices his stomach.

“That’s what I get for being Japanese,” snorts Makoto before his head does a whiplash because sitting in front of her is _Cynthia._

“You could say they’re on speaking terms now,” explains Laurent when he notices his reaction, slightly smirking.

The brunette claps his hands, grinning. “That’s awesome! Besides, I wanted to talk to you all about our little scheme.” 

“What do you have in mind?” curiously asks the redheaded woman

“Laurent’s idea was decent but I’ve noticed a few flaws.”

“Ouch,” interjects the blond, placing a hand over his heart.

“Hun, you’re the looks, I’m the brains, she’s the power and,” he glances at Cynthia, pondering for a moment. “She’s the element of surprise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this unresolved homoerotic tension is killing me
> 
> and a kiss to everyone who noticed the witcher reference


	14. Chapter 14

“Hey padre, I-”

…

“I know, I know. I should have called sooner.”

…

“I’ve missed you too. Actually-”

…

“What? No, I’m not dying! My throat’s just hoarse.”

...

“ _Gross._ I can’t believe you’re the older one here. But, ahem, thanks for the tip- nope, not gonna say that anymore.”

…

“I do need your help, just _not with my sex life._ ”

…

“Any sedative, pretty please.”

…

“No no, not special K. Like uh, benzos?”

…

“Sure, valium’s great!”

…

“I’ll text you the address. You’re the best~”

…

“I love you too, and say hi to Anderson for me.”

* * *

Today marks the tournament’s first round, blessing everyone with a gorgeous weather. Makoto tries paying attention to Clark who’s competing against a certain Donald Rodriguez, but it proves to be difficult when his boyfriend is purposefully teasing him. His face reddens as he feels a hand caressing his bottom. A growl forms at the back of his throat as a warning as Laurent retracts his hand and innocently sips on Makoto’s bubble tea. The brunette softly snorts at his reaction before a chorus of cheers resonate when the winner is announced. 

“Looks like that was a breeze for Clark,” remarks Laurent, holding onto his umbrella. 

“Why do you have that thing?” Makoto questions as he’s staring at it.

The blond lets out a sigh. “To prevent ageing, my dear.”

He’s taken aback by that statement. “Laurent- you- you don’t need that, you’re just twenty-eight! And besides, I’ll love you no matter what.” He hugs his boyfriend, burying his face in the crook of his neck. 

The Frenchman’s look softens. “The things you say…” He holds the smaller man close, discarding his umbrella. They both ignore the crowd surrounding them, gently kissing as Makoto runs a hand through his blond locks. Fans hurry past them to meet with the famous pilot and Makoto slowly pulls away. His eyes catch the figure standing in the VIP seats, observing sternly his brother. _So that’s Sam, huh?_

“I gotta go start phase one, so you can wait for me back at the hotel.” He pecks his lips and Laurent pats his head. 

“Do your magic, little soybean.”

The brunette confidently grins and walks towards Clark, flashing his best smile. The other happily calls out his name, inviting him to come closer. The smaller man suddenly feels shy from all the stares directed at him, especially now that the pilot’s arm is around his waist. The girls giggle between themselves. 

“Wuaaa~ Is this your boyfriend, Clark?” one of them asks, with almost sparkles in her eyes.

“He’s just a good friend of mine,” he pats his back and Makoto almost jolts from the strength.

“So handsome,” one of them says.

“Super adorable,” another adds.

“Does that mean I date him?” he overhears.

Makoto feels his cheeks burning and can’t look at any of them without dying from embarrassment. 

“Aww would you look at him, he gets shy very easily. If you all don’t mind, we’ll go somewhere private to finish our conversation.” 

The girls pout but reluctantly let him go. “Bye-bye mysterious friend!” The Japanese man chuckles and waves them goodbye, letting himself get dragged away by the pilot to a secluded area. They find a grass field close by and the tall man stops to stare at the horizon. A small breeze makes its presence, just enough to stop them from feeling too hot.

“How do you think I did today?” he curiously asks as he rests on the ground.

The brunette sits next to him, running his hands through the grass blades. “It went pretty smoothly, didn’t it?”

Clark bitterly chuckles. “I barely slept last night. Got into another fight with my brother. You probably heard he's organising this event with all these important people and the pressure… it’s just…”

Makoto represses the part in him that feels guilty for using manipulation. He scooches closer to his friend, comforting him by stroking his arm. One moment their eyes meet, and the next one he gets pinned down by Clark. His gasp is cut off as the distance between them closes. It’s different from what he’s used to. The kiss is almost hypnotising, making him drowsy. His lips taste like sweet poison; when you’re aware it’s wrong but something still makes you come back for more. Clark pulls away, trailing his neck with kisses and that’s when Makoto returns to reality. 

“Wait wait wait-” 

The man on top pauses, sharing a worried look. “Do you not like it?”

“I- well- the thing is-” he fumbles over his words. Makoto feels his insides twist in unnatural ways as his heart throbs in pain. _I’ve been leading you on so that you’d lower your guard. I became close to you so we could scam your brother. I wish I could tell you the truth but that would ruin everything._ "I prefer to take it slow,” he finally declares. 

“Oh,” The Arab man softly exhales. “You thought- no, that’s okay.”

The Japanese man shares a confused look. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“You’re cute and all, but dating just isn’t on my list. I was thinking more like… friends with benefits? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you false hopes,” he winces.

Makoto starts giggling from the irony. At least Clark did the job for him. “No hard feelings, it’s all good.” He gives a reassuring smile. 

The pilot breathes out of relief. “You know, maybe you should come with me next week. I know crowds aren’t your thing, especially with snobbish assholes, but.. I’d like to finally introduce you to my brother,” he offers to the brunette.

“Mhm…” he acts hesitant. “Oh what the hell, why not.” Makoto grins and mentally cheers himself. That’s phase one complete.

* * *

“Soooo, how did it go?” Laurent holds his waist and brings their foreheads together. He feels soft breaths hit his face.

Makoto warmly smiles. “Better than I thought! Got the invitation from Clark. I’m pretty sure I’ll get to personally meet Sam which is when I’ll…” he trails off, smirking. 

“My, what a little devil you are.” He pecks his lips. “I suppose the rest of us will have to find a way to sneak in?”

“As if you can’t pretend to be some rich dude,” the brunette snorts. “What will you be? Politician? Entrepreneur? Mhm… model?” He feels his back hit the wall.

“I’m pretty good looking, aren’t I?” The blond delicately brushes his lips against his collarbone. 

Makoto’s breath itches before he slightly smirks. “Just above average,” he teases.

The Frenchman sucks at a particular place, earning a whimper from his boyfriend. “It seems that this ‘just above average’ guy knows all your weak spots.”

The brunette presses a knee against his crotch and Laurent closes his mouth before any more sound comes out, face reddening. “Pretty sure that’s a moan I heard.”

“A bit hard not to when you- nhnn… we should take this to bed before we scar Abbie for life,” the blond suggests. They fumblingly go to their bedroom as they make out, Makoto already unbuttoning the other’s shirt before slamming the door shut.

* * *

“I’m telling you, cigarettes after sex just feel different.” Makoto slowly exhales, watching the cloud of smoke dissipate into the air. 

“The staff is gonna kill us,” Laurent groans into a pillow.

“They can try,” he wickedly smirks. The brunette gasps when his cigarette gets taken away from his hand. “Hey, what ar-” He stops and frowns when he witnesses Laurent ‘my body is a temple’ Thierry take a drag.

“This is,” the blond coughs. “ _Awful._ How do you smoke this?” He rubs his throat. 

“It’s called an unhealthy coping mechanism,” he weakly laughs. “But maybe you’re right.” He stares at the cancer stick back in his hand. “Should… should I try to quit?” 

“It’s your call, mon amour.” Laurent squeezes his hand. 

“Withdrawal’s gonna be a bitch,” he chuckles and drops it in an empty cup. “Fuck... I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

The Frenchman caresses his cheek. “I’m so proud of you.” He deeply kisses the brunette as the smaller man roams his hands across his body. 

“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me.” He grins and kisses Laurent for the nth time today. Someone knocks at the door, stopping them.

“Are y’all doing some freaky shit?” He recognises the voice as Abbie’s. 

Laurent stifles a laugh. “It’s fine, you can come in.”

She slowly enters, a small package in her hand. “I saw this at the reception. It’s for you, Edamame. Pretty sure that’s your sugar daddy’s address.”

“Ah, it finally arrived!” He tosses away the blanket and walks towards her. He takes the package then flicks her forehead. “And that’s for disrespecting padre.”

“Daddy’s boy,” she snorts before taking off and closes the door behind her.

“Is that what I think it is?” questions Laurent, moving curiously to Makoto.

“Only one way to find out.” He carefully opens the package to reveal a wooden box. Undoing the clips, he beams at the content. There, delicately laid out, is a vial and syringe. “Oh, this is gonna be _fun!_ ”

Phase two? Check.

* * *

Makoto is almost vibrating out of excitement. Tonight is when Sam is hosting his soirée. If everything goes according to plan, it shall prove to be _very_ interesting. He’s currently staring at his reflection in the mirror, fixing his blazer made of black and gold brocade fabric. He used to despise attention but tonight… tonight, he wants to shine. He can’t feel anything but confident about the scheme he fleshed out. He did pour sweat and tears into it, after all. A shadow creeps behind him, revealing to be his boyfriend.

“Doesn’t this bring back memories?” Laurent kisses the back of his neck. “That was the moment I fell in love with you.” 

The brunette fondly smiles, head leaning back to rest of his shoulder. “It probably sounds cheesy but I think, for me, it was love at first sight.” Two arms wrap around him and he relishes the warmth.

“Since we agreed this would be our last con, there’s something I’d like you to have.” The Frenchman digs in his pocket to retrieve a small item. He inserts the jewellery on Makoto’s fourth finger.

He stares in shock at the ring newly installed on his hand. “That’s the- the ring you always keep on yourself.”

“And you’re its new owner,” the blond slightly chuckles. “It belonged to someone I… deeply cared for. I think it’s only right for you to have it now.”

“I-I don’t even know what to say…” Makoto turns to face the taller man, intertwining their hands together. “Thank you so much.” They gently kiss before both men hear a commotion coming from the living area. They head outside of their bedroom before the Japanese man squeals in happiness. “Kudo-san!” He runs to engulf the man in a hug. “It’s so good to see you again!”

Kudo returns the hug before exclaiming in amazement, “Your voice, Edamura-kun- it’s so deep!”

“I know, right?” he chuckles. “I’m a big man now.”

The older man switches to Japanese. “I’ve missed you too, you know? Last time we saw each other was when I hid in a closet.”

The brunette playfully punches his shoulder. “You really had me good, back then. I actually believed the cops were after us! With you-know-what, I almost shit myself.” 

Kudo winces. “I’m sorry Edamura-kun, I hope you understand why we had to do it.”

“Well, it did allow me to meet Laurent.” He warmly smiles at the blond. 

“I heard you two were together, that’s great! I also met my partner thanks to Team Confidence,” he grins.

Makoto’s eyes linger on Shi-won who is wearing a sequin dress that could almost blind someone. “No way- you and her?”

“It’s never too late to find love!” He pats the young man’s back. 

“You know what, Kudo-san, you’re entirely right.” He heads towards the woman who’s currently chatting with Laurent. 

“Come here, jeolm-eun-i. Help me settle something with this man right here.” He can hear the tension in her voice. _Oh, Laurent, what have you done?_

“Sure, what’s going on?” he nervously laughs.

Shi-won flaunts her dress. “What do you think of my outfit?” 

“And be honest. The harsh truth, if you have to,” insists Laurent.

“I think,” he starts, and despite his boyfriend’s wish, he does _not_ wish to unleash the dragon’s fury, “that you look absolutely dashing, ajumma!” 

‘Traitor,’ Laurent’s eyes say.

“See, I was right!” she satisfyingly proclaims, whacking the back of the blond’s head.

“You've got to be lying! Right, Makoto? _Right?_ ”

“I, uh…” he looks around in hopes to find something that can save him. “I gotta talk to Abbie!”

Makoto finds the girl silently staring at Cynthia. He clears his throat, gaining her attention. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just- that dress... it was a gift from me.”

He sits next to her. “Maybe that’s a good sign?” Couple therapy is far from his expertise. 

A smile forms at the corner of her mouth. “I wanted to thank you for changing things around for me. That was… really considerate of you.” Abbie sends a grateful look at him.

“Of course. Whatever you went through, it doesn’t make you weak to have mental scars from that.” He receives a tight hug from her and doesn’t comment on how she starts shaking. He whispers words of comfort, helping her calm down. “Are you ready for tonight?”

She switches back to her confident self. “Ready to catch one hell of a fish. What are their species called again?”

“I believe they’re named ‘royal cocksuckers.’”

“Damn right, that’ll shake the homophobia in him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feed on comments to brighten my poor, sad life. don't hesitate to let me know what you think (´,,•ω•,,)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> added a few more songs to the [~playlist~](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6FZDIqgpYvYKisRkLEa9Vp?si=98l6JUq3Rlqmb3buMVMtGA)
> 
> ┐(・。・┐) ♪

Being Clark’s plus-one came with a lot more attention than he expected. They only needed to cross over the door for guests to whisper among themselves. Makoto observes the rich crowd, all of them covered in bling and trinkets. Some relax around the several hookahs displayed while others prefer to hang nearby the several tables filled with hors d’oeuvres. A few waiters carry plates supporting glasses filled with bubbly champagne, and the brunette spots Laurent disguised as one of them. At the far end of the room, Makoto feels the piercing gaze of Sam, sensing a repressed frustration. Clark brings him closer with an arm, staring back at the man with a silent resolution. Most likely the older brother was not aware of the pilot’s partner. Just great. That’ll make a good first impression. 

“Can I get you anything?” offers Clark, “Something to eat or drink?”

The Japanese man glances at the food showcased before he finds one to his liking. “These canapés look really good.”

“Your wish is my command,” he grins and Makoto finds a close seat. Discreetly looking around him, he quickly whispers into his hidden mic to make sure the team is ready at their position. He receives a mix of yesses, appeasing the young man’s nerves. Slumping on the couch, he soon feels a weight on his left. As he turns his head, a woman wearing a black dress comfortably hugging her form looks back at Makoto. He feels her acrylic nails dragging across his face before holding his chin.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He remains still with a neutral expression. 

“Aren’t you a cute one,” she purrs in a velvety voice. “I could eat you a single bite.”

“I believe I still deserve an introduction.”

She carefully approaches him to softly speak in his ear, “You smell of darkness, a crafter of meticulous lies. Should you choose to join us, I think your assets would be of high value.” The stranger’s hand strokes his thigh, much against his comfort.

“Thank you for the offer but I’m afraid I have to refuse.” He forces a smile, gritting his teeth.

“The cat has fangs,” she softly chuckles. “If you happen to change your mind, simply speak the words and we shall respond. We are everywhere. _Ambulare in tenebris._ ” She places in his pocket a box of matches with the illustration of a crow then leaves before he can ask any questions. 

What. The. Fuck. _Who was she? Everywhere? Walk in the shadows?_ Another person approaches him and the brunette sighs in relief at the sight of Clark carrying a plate filled with canapés. He didn’t feel like talking to another stranger after… whatever the hell that was.

“I’m sorry for the wait, I got pulled into a conversation.” He pulls an apologetic smile, sitting where the raven-haired woman previously did. Makoto shakes the encounter away from his head.

“I can’t blame you for that,” he weakly laughs then takes a bite of the food, eyes widening in surprise. “Holy shit, this is really good.” Sam might be a dick but he knows what chefs to hire.

“Is it?” questions Clark before he finally eats one. “Fuck- you’re right. You need to stop me or I’ll eat your entire plate.” Makoto snorts before dangling another canapé in front of the man. The pilot tries looking away before letting out a groan. “Temptation accomplished. Now please let me have it,” he pleads. 

The Japanese man mischievously smirks. “Remember what you said.” To the offended gasp of Clark, he takes it for himself.

“Absolutely scandalous. You really are a little devil.” He cracks a smile before he stands up, fixing his suit. “Looks like my brother’s free, if you wanna talk to him.”

Makoto feels an oncoming headache, his craving suddenly resurfacing at the worst timing. “Sure, let’s do this.” He represses a wince, rather looking out for his teammates. Laurent is currently serving a few guests, winking at his boyfriend as he sees him. Cynthia and Abbie are currently dancing to the slow tempo of the music, making a fond smile appear on his face. They send a knowing nod at him. As for Shi-won, she certainly knows how to attract a crowd. She seems to be occupied spewing lewd gossips, much to people’s liking. Kudo is stationed close outside. Good, everyone should be ready. 

Makoto is finally in front of his target, dressed in his usual thawb but tonight he chose to also put on a black bisht with the hems ornate in gold. How ironic that they both have matching colours. Clark is, however, not dressed in a traditional outfit, opting instead for a wine red suit made in velour. 

“Brother, I’d like for you to meet a dear friend,” starts the younger brother.

“Makoto Sasaki, a pleasure to meet you.” The brunette bows. He’s taken the habit of using the name written either on his Japanese or American passport. Leaving trails of his past identity is precisely what he wants to avoid. 

“I heard a few things from Clark.” Sam cautiously observes him. “There seems to be something different about you. Let’s have a chat outside.”

“Then I’ll go grab us a drink,” he offers as Laurent is close to them. He takes two glasses before whispering, “Stay close to Clark,” to which the blond offers a small nod. Sam quickly says something to his brother and the pilot pouts, turning to face Makoto who’s heading back towards them. 

“Apparently, my brother wants a _private_ conversation. I know he can look a little scary but don’t let him intimidate you.” He pats the smaller man’s shoulder.

The Japanese man stops himself from snorting. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll survive. You go uh.. make connections and all that.” After watching his friend leave he follows Sam outside, admiring the garden that’s almost out of a fairytale. Before him lays an outdoor sofa along with a lit fire pit surrounded by stones. 

“Come join me, Mr Sasaki.” 

He sits next to the prince, offering a glass of champagne. 

“Thank you, but I can’t accept it,” he declares, turning his attention to the embers fleeting in the air.

Makoto chuckles. “You’re a clever man, Mr Ibrahim. We can switch our glasses if that can appease your mind.”

“Very much so.” After changing their drinks, Sam awaits for Makoto to take a sip first before drinking himself. “Tell me, is it common for mechanics to own Ralph Lauren suits?”

The man is very attentive to details. Lying to him will be a challenge for Makoto. He can’t afford his body language to betray him. “I must admit I have… omitted a few details.”

“Such as?” The prince leans forward in interest. 

“In the underworld, you might be more familiar with the name Meo Cassano.” The brunette declares, keeping eye contact.

Sam barks a laugh. “You’re Eddie’s boy, aren’t you? That explains your financial situation. Is this related to why you’re here?” He takes another sip. 

“No, I simply thought you should know who you’re dealing with.” A smirk begins to form on his face.

“‘Dealing?’ A strange use of the word, Mr… Cassano.” The man frowns.

“There’s a reason I love predictable men,” Makoto leans back, watching the night sky. “You were right about one thing, Mr Ibrahim. You see, the blond waiter you saw also happens to be my assistant. His task was to poison a drink. It was mine, to begin with. Only, I knew you’d suspect poisoning and thus why we switched them. Do you know what that means, Mr Ibrahim?” He stares at the prince, bathing in the increasing tension. The thrill of bluffing… he licks his lips in delight. 

Sam tightens his fists, muttering swears in Arabic. “I should have known you’d be a snake just like him!” He takes out a dagger, pointing it at the young man.

He raises his hands in surrender. “Do not fret, Mr Ibrahim. Here with me is the antidote.” He takes out the valium-filled syringe. “And you can have access to it for the price of twenty million American dollars.”

“ _What-_ And if it’s a bluff?” the man growls.

“That decision is yours alone to make. After all, there’s only your life on the line. Oh- and I should mention it takes an hour for the poison to fully… incapacitate you.” He taps a finger on his wrist, mimicking a watch.

The prince’s glare darkens, still holding onto his blade. “What stops me from killing you to use it?”

“Then you’ll have the pleasure of going through the numerous mercenaries stationed at that very room behind us.” And hopefully, it doesn’t have to come to that. He’s had enough with one murder, let’s not add a second on top of it.

Sam pinches the bridge of his nose, sweat slowly accumulating on his face. _He must feel cornered. Good. Very good. Any moment now…_ The prince snarls, furiously taking out his phone before handing it to the brunette. “Go on, do what you must.” He grits his teeth.

Makoto finds himself on the banking app, transferring a few million to each of his partners. Wouldn’t want the bank to be suspicious too. Satisfactions seeps in him as he completes the transaction without any hiccups. He gives the phone back to its owner. “Everything’s set, you’ll live to see another day!” He cheers, clapping his hands. “Now, please give me your arm, your majesty.” No, Makoto’s not done being a little shit. The prince harshly rolls up his sleeve before Makoto injects the sedative in his muscle. 

Sam sends him a death glare. “I pray I never have to see your face again. Disappear, before I do something I re… gret.” He stumbles, holding himself against a wall. “What’s happening to me?” His voice slightly wavers. He almost feels bad for the guy. Almost.

“Only a side effect of the antidote. I think it would be best for you to rest.” Makoto helps the man lay down, prompting his head on his lap. 

He hazily removes his ghutra, revealing dark locks. “Are you sure? I will make you pay… believe me.” He wipes the sweat off of his forehead.

The Japanese man almost groans. “Just close your eyes, little prince. Let it pass away.” He quietly hums, his focus on the burning logs softly crackling. After a few minutes, he hears the man’s breathing slow down. “I want you to know that I won’t forget all the horrible things you’ve done. All the women you’ve shamed, all the times you’ve forced your brother without his consent, all your hatred directed at anyone who doesn’t fit your norm, and all for your own sick pleasure. Guess what, Sammy, I’m a _homosexual._ What are you gonna do about that, huh?” Sam stays silent as Makoto bitterly chuckles. “Of course you’re sleeping now. Sorry, I… lost control for a second.” He reaches out to his mic. “Cynthia and Shi-won, start the distraction. Laurent and Abbie, help me carry the body. Kudo, you can drive close to the emergency exit.” 

While he’s waiting for Abbie and his boyfriend, the brunette reaches into his pocket to observe the matchbox. Under the cartoonish crow, he can faintly notice an address written in small characters. As he turns the box to see under it, a second drawing reveals itself. A crown. He massages his temples, frowning. That can’t be a coincidence. Somehow they knew. Should he deliver the prince at the address? 

“Edamame?” He suddenly breaks out of his daze, not having heard the footsteps. “Is he… you know?” Abbie questions.

“Just unconscious. But even if he wakes up, he’ll be too stoned to do anything dangerous.” He turns to Laurent. “And how’s Clark doing?”

“High as a kite,” the blond snickers. “I doubt he’ll even notice his brother is missing.”

“It’s better this way.” Makoto goes back inside, staying close to the door. He witnesses the performance that’s about to happen. 

“So, who stole my ring?” Shi-won inquires to the crowd gathered around her. “I’m not mad, I just wanna know.”

“I.. did. Did I? I think I did.” Clark confusedly frowns.

“No, no you didn’t.” She corrects him, placing a hand on her hip. “Cynthia?”

“Don’t look at me, look at Kiana,” the redhead retorts, looking at the woman in question.

“What? I didn’t steal it,” she claims, sharing a confused look.

“Huh, that’s weird. How’d you even know it was stolen?” continues Cynthia.

“Because Shi-won literally said it,” Kiana deadpans.

Cynthia approaches her, watching her closely. “Suspicious.”

“No, it’s not!”

“If it matters- probably not, but Sariah was the last one to talk to Shi-won.” A middle-aged man claims.

“Pierce, I don’t even wear rings!”

“Oh, really? Then what were you doing talking to her?” he insists.

Sariah scuffs. “So I can’t even talk to a friend?”

“Let’s not fight, I took it. Lemme just… pay for it.” Clark waves his arms around.

“No. Who stole it?” Shi-won presses the matter.

There’s a silence before Kiana speaks again. “Emmy’s been awfully quiet-”

“Really!?”

“Yes-”

“Oh my god!”

Everyone is too engrossed in the following banter to notice the prince getting carried away trough the exit. “Nice job, you too. It was getting a bit too chummy in here.” He grins. “Join us as soon as you can slip away.”

Kudo is there to greet them, opening the van’s door. “Wow, you actually did it! Get it, everyone. We don’t want any witnesses.” He’s a smart little fellow.

Abbie places the unconscious man in the backseat, sitting next to him. “If he tries anything funny, I’ll make him wish he was dead.” She dangerously smirks. 

“Maybe a little castration would do him good,” jokes Laurent.

Makoto loudly snorts. “You’re just full of surprises.”

They get interrupted as they hear the voice of their two partners outside. Quickly letting them in, Kudo asks for the next destination. Makoto hesitates for a second before responding with the one on the matchbox.

* * *

“This place is creepy as fuck,” exclaims Abbie, hugging herself as protection from the cold.

“Agreed,” Makoto mutters, looking at his surroundings. The address led them to a restaurant but he has a feeling it’s more about the alleyway right behind it. The few scattered lights provide almost no help with the darkness. His arms are starting to feel the weight of Sam while he wonders if he’s doing the right thing. Should he be giving away his friend’s brother when he has no idea of his outcome and what organisation he’s supposedly joining? If he listened to his brain, hell fucking no. However, his intuition is essentially screaming to proceed with it. 

He steps into the pitch-black alleyway, lowering the prince on the dirty ground. He has more sympathy for his clothes rather than the man himself. He has a hunch that he shouldn’t explore further down and quietly goes back to his team. 

His back against the van, he watches the prince’s unconscious body when it’s suddenly dragged away in a swift motion. He does _not_ squeal.

_“Iustitia ministrari.”_ Makoto hears a voice hiss and a small object lands at his feet. Justice will be served? He picks up the item and brushes off the dirt. His eyes widen with a newfound intrigue. 

A wooden tile of mahjong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my brain: what the fuck is this? where is this supposed to lead? there are so many plotholes you took 'plot' out of it. just rewrite everything  
> me: hahaha thanks for the support


	16. Chapter 16

Makoto breathes in the scent of home, one hand carrying his luggage as the other holds his partner’s hand. He practically beams in the familiar scenery, sending an exciting smile at the blond. Even the few dirty looks from their public display of attention leave him unbothered. He’s too thrilled to be back in his hometown.

It’s the middle of August and he can see a few people preparing for the Obon festival, lantern garlands being hanged after buildings. Strolling on the streets of Kyoto, he notices from the distance his duplex. He pulls after Laurent’s sleeve, eagerly dragging him to his old home. The latter laughs, giving himself to his boyfriend’s antics. 

Makoto stares at the door facing him, looking for a key he hasn’t used in a long time. He ignores his mailbox that’s been overflowing for a while, instead unlocking his condo. He breathes out, seeing his place exactly how it used to be. The unfinished teacups, the newspapers across the tatami floor, a few objects scattered around in panic.

“ただいま,” he murmurs, almost expecting his mother to welcome him back.

Laurent places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay, little soybean?”

“Oh- yeah, I’m fine.” He approaches the small altar dedicated to his mother. He blows off the dust from the butsugu accessories, then his fingers gently trace her urn. “I’m sure she would have loved you,” he softly professes. 

“From what you told me, she sounded like a remarkable woman.” He kisses the brunette’s cheek.

“The kindest mother I could ever have,” he warmly smiles, hugging Laurent before they slowly kiss. He pulls away after a few seconds, eyes widening in horror. “Oh god, the food…”

The blond grimaces. “It’s probably walking by itself at this point.”

Makoto fake-gags, scrunching his nose from the mental image. “Well, we can’t procrastinate forever.”

“Hmm, can’t we?” The taller man brings their body together, pressing kisses all across his face. 

The Japanese man hums, smiling again before something interrupts him. “I’m… I’m gonna-” He sharply inhales a few times before loudly sneezing. 

“À tes souhaits,” Laurent chuckles. “You’re right, let’s make this place a bit more livable.”

The two spend a good hour arranging the mess that was present. The brunette sneezes many more times, increasing his hatred for dust. When the time comes to empty the fridge, he prepares himself by holding his breath and signals for the Frenchman to ready the trash bag. He doesn’t spare a second at the decomposing food, throwing away everything that comes in his sight. The other man tightly knots the bag and they both breathe out, slightly exhausted but relieved.

As the condo is now dustless and without clutter, Makoto guides his boyfriend to the nearest konbini in order to get something to eat. They later come back with a bag filled with food along with wood and flowers.

“I forgot how amazing a kotatsu is.” Makoto dreamily smiles, munching on an onigiri.

Laurent looks as if he’s practically melting. “I can’t believe I’ve been missing this for twenty-eight years.”

“I can’t even tell you the number of times I accidentally fell asleep here,” he snorts before feeding a steamed bun to his boyfriend that easily accepts it. 

It’s after they finish eating that Makoto starts placing a few offerings on the altar. He begins with some fruits that he previously cut then adds umaibo, her favourite snack. The brunette continues by laying lavender, signifying harmony and peace. He holds in his hand the cat hairpin his mother always used to wear, a fond expression on his face. He finishes by placing said object on the altar. He’s about to prepare the bonfire when Laurent, who's been silent the entire time shoots a confused look at him. 

“Today, on August 13th, we have _mukaebi_ \- um, welcoming fires. Obon is about paying respect to the deceased since we believe that spirits come back for the next three days and, uh, we leave bonfires in front of our houses to guide spirits back to their home.” He pauses for a moment then slightly blushes. “You could join me if you want.”

“I’d be delighted to,” admits the blond, joining the man outside.

Makoto arranges a large plate close to the door before both men start placing wooden sticks. After forming a pile, the Japanese man hands his lighter to Laurent. “I’ll let you do the honours.”

The other affectionately smiles before producing a small flame on one of the sticks. He softly blows, fueling more oxygen and the flame gradually propagates across the plate. 

The brunette watches him with glee, intertwining their hands together. His gaze moves to the setting sun, the sky now a mix of orange, pink and purple tones. His heart bursts with joy at the thought of finally being home with his lover. Laurent means everything to him now. Parting ways with him would mean leaving a piece of his heart behind. He loves him- wants that blond bastard for himself alone. _He’s mineminemine-_

Makoto closes the distance between them, pecking his lips a few times. He feels a smile stretching from Laurent before they both go back inside. The door shuts behind them and the brunette drags him to his bedroom. Their breaths intermix as they kiss once again, the blond lying on the futon as Makoto straddles his lap. The Japanese man helps him remove his shirt, lowering his head to suck on the delicate skin of his chest. Hearing the taller man’s breath itching is music to his ears and he intends to garnish his stomach with hickeys. He soon feels hands bury themselves in his hair and slightly smirks as his lips hover on top of the other’s crotch. Makoto teasingly pecks the prominent bulge a few times before removing his own shirt in a slow manner. 

Laurent engulfs their mouths together, helping the smaller man unbuckle his belt. It doesn’t take long for their clothes to be completely gone. Their naked bodies press together, Makoto gasping as the blond enters him. Breaths quickly increase. They move together synchronously. They whisper words of endearment as they meld together; body, mind and soul. They can’t distinguish their own bodies, as though the two of them became one. Makoto feels himself approaching climax when his lover speaks up. 

“Edamura Makoto, w-will you… will you marry me?”

The brunette’s eyes snap open in surprise. “W-What? Right now?!” Laurent sheepishly smiles as a response. He thought of proposing too but is still shocked nonetheless. “I-I… oh, Kami… yes- yes I do!” He shakingly laughs as they’re both grinning. He brings the blond closer, moaning his name and hearing his own one last time before they come undone together. 

The taller man firmly holds him on top as Makoto slightly trembles, both panting. Laurent softly strokes his now-fiancé’s cheek, bathing in the warmth from their bodies. “You have no idea how happy I am.” He places the other’s hand over his chest.

Makoto blushes as he feels the racing heartbeat of his partner. He looks at the cornflower blue eyes staring back at him. “I can’t believe you proposed in the middle of sex,” he snorts then smiles warmly. “I love you to the moon and back, Laurent Edamura.”

The Frenchman slightly grins. “If the moon is what you want, I’ll gladly give it to you, Makoto Thierry.” They both giggle, giddy at the thought of changing names.

The two spend the evening watching a movie. At this moment, Makoto forgets any problem plaguing his mind; whether that would be the possible death he caused, the so-called association he might have joined or the ties he had to abruptly cut with someone that could have become his friend. They fall asleep snuggling under the kotatsu.

* * *

Makoto cheerfully hums, swinging the arm of his _fiancé._ His wooden sandals gently clack on the busy street as they look for a store to buy a yukata for the Frenchman, and hopefully match his. 

Laurent shares a concerned look. “Are you sure this is fine? Wouldn’t it be considered cultural-”

“Don’t be silly,” he bursts out laughing. “If there's one thing we love, it's sharing our culture. We could never be offended by a foreigner wearing… a piece of cloth that has no sacred meaning- on the contrary! You know, when I was a kid, I was actually surprised to find out that outsiders had an interest in our culture.” 

The blond visibly relaxes, now looking curious. “What’s the story behind that?”

“So I was in school and this classmate asked me if I watch this Youtuber called Filthy Frank,” he shortly snorts. “I had no idea who that guy was so when I’m back home, I go to my computer- you know, back when screens were these big boxes.”

“God you’re making me feel old,” groans Laurent, stifling a laugh. “So what about Filthy Frank?”

“You know how he is- proper crackhead energy,” he giggles. “But what shocked me the most was the comments. People actually… liked him for being Japanese and it made me feel better about myself. All of these weebs had such a big interest in Japan. I started being proud of my culture,” he fondly smiles, squeezing the Frenchman’s hand. 

“You should. I know you mentioned a lot of times its flaws but I find Japan a beautiful country. Kyoto is a lovely city too. I did get to meet the love of my life here.” Makoto beams and hugs his arms. “Oh- I think they sell yukatas here.” The blond points to a shop.

Finding a yukata that fits Laurent proves to be a difficult task. A wave motif catches his attention and thankfully the retail worker has a lot of patience. They end up finding his size, much to his pleasure, along with sandals, a belt and a pouch. 

“E-Ettoo...” The cashier looks at them, debating who to address. “Price is, um... 21,700 yen,” she declares in English with a thick accent.

“He’ll be the one paying,” exclaims Laurent in Japanese, winking at his partner.

“Ehhh?” _When did I agree to this?!_

* * *

“How do I… exactly do this?” Laurent stares at the temizuya from a distance. 

Makoto has been dying to visit a shrine, having missed two years worth of traditions. “I’ll give you a demonstration,” he reassures, heading towards the water pavilion. The brunette picks up the ladle and fills it from the stream. He starts by pouring some of it into his left hand then switches to his other one. He cups his left hand and pours water again, this time letting the water touch his lips. He rinses his left hand once more before holding vertically the ladle, letting the remaining water run down. 

The Frenchman hums in understanding, hesitantly repeating the steps. Makoto assured him he was doing great. As they finally approach the shrine, the smaller man continues educating his partner. “This is the saisen.” He points at the offertory box. “We usually offer five-yen coins since it sounds like ‘luck’. Oh- and avoid standing dead-centre in front of it because that’s where gods walk through.”

“Thank you, darling. I’ll watch your demonstration again although I’m a bit more familiar with this part,” he chuckles. 

The Japanese man nods, tossing a coin into the box. He firmly holds the rope and shakes the bell, a nostalgic smile forming on his face. _Ni-rei, ni-hakushu, ichi-rei._ How often had he done this routine from all the times he visited shrines and prayed for his father to come back. He greets this kami-sama by bowing deeply two times. He then claps two times, his right hand slightly below his left. _Dear kami-sama, my wish is to live a long and happy life with Laurent forever by my side. Hopefully, you’ll be more useful than in the past. Sorry- please don’t strike me down with lightning. Sorry for not visiting you sooner._ He finishes with a final bow. Opening his eyes, he finds the blond next to him, also finishing his prayer. 

Maybe it did work.

Makoto took great pleasure visiting the Niji castle, home of Ieyasu Tokugawa. He was the former rival of Hideyoshi Toyotomi before they formed an alliance. The brunette also had a lot of fun at the monkey park- these little creatures really are adorable. Time flew incredibly fast and before he knew it, it was already the 16th of August.

“They’re about to start the Gozan no Okuribi!” Makoto eagerly grins, staring at mount Daimonji. 

The bridge where they currently are is packed with people sharing his excitement. Laurent hugs him from behind, resting his head in the crook of his neck. “You’re so fucking adorable. If it wasn’t for all these people, who knows what I would do…” he murmurs. 

“L-Laurent!” The brunette flushes red. 

“Hey, I think they’re lighting the first character.” 

Makoto’s head snaps at the words, staring back at the mount. For the next 30 minutes, he watches in exhilaration the five bonfires gradually appear. Several times he feels his neck attacked by kisses, explaining why some people are acting as if he committed murder. He presses their mouths together, shutting everyone up once and for all. 

* * *

“Look, look! There’s the bon-odori!” he excitingly exclaims, pulling Laurent to where people are dancing. 

“Little soybean- just- wait, I don’t know the dance,” nervously admits the blond.

Makoto starts giggling. “It’s fiiine, no one will care. It’s all about having fun.” They spend the evening dancing under the lanterns, following the taiko’s beat. An elderly woman guides Laurent through his moves, Makoto witnessing the rare occurrence when his fiancé blushes. He even gets to perform his favourite dance- Tanko Bushi! The two have several laughing fits throughout the night and the Frenchman ends up having as much fun as him. All in all, Makoto spends one of the best nights of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2k hits??? thank you so much everyone, that's very poggers. i had a lot of fun writing this interlude! a ton of research had to be done but it was totally worth (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧
> 
> if you're interested, [here's what bon odori looks like](https://youtu.be/-J5yTJpZ7TI)
> 
> before i forget, the story about filthy frank was taken from [this video](https://youtu.be/vGvHdwA3ty8)


	17. Chapter 17

Blood. I smell blood. Lowering my blankets, I discover a large red stain. A whimper escapes my mouth as I stumble on the floor. I catch a glimpse of my younger body from a mirror.

No.

_No no no._

I hastily remove the bedsheets, cold sweat seeping through my clothes. _I remember this moment, it was the first time-_ I hear footsteps coming towards my bedroom and freeze in horror. 

“M-Mum?” I stutter, tears prickling from my eyes.

The door creaks, opening frustratingly slow. A figure steps in, except it’s far different than my mother’s silhouette. I silently stare at the stranger, my body still paralysed. 

“Do I… know you?” I tense.

He dangerously smirks, pushing me against the floor. “You look better this way, Maeko. The way nature made you.”

“Fuck. _Off._ ” I can struggle and squirm all I want but escaping is impossible. He’s too strong. I hear him laugh, dragging a sheet in my sight.

“This blood is only proof you were meant to carry children.” He breathes down my neck as I shiver in disgust. A hand creeps under my shirt, dangerously close to my chest. 

“S… Stop it.” My voice wavers before he starts touching me in all the wrong places. 

He licks his lips in delight. “I always liked them young.”

“You’re a sick bastard!” I snarl and as his face approaches me, I take the opportunity to bite his ear. He cries in pain as my teeth dig deeper into his skin. With a swift movement, I rip out a chunk of flesh, warm blood splattering across my face. I spit it out, grimacing in disgust. Gritting my teeth, I tighten my fist before punching him in the face. And again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

He collapses on the floor unconscious, his face caked in blood.

“This look suits you.”

I turn at the voice behind me, gasping in surprise. “Clark? W-What are you…”

He tilts his head. “You’re telling me this didn’t bring you any satisfaction?” 

I flinch as I stare at the mutilated body. _Did I… do this?_ _I couldn't… wouldn't… no, I did enjoy it._ I guiltily look away after a few seconds.

“No, look at him.” 

I glance at Clark with a pained expression. 

“ _Look at him,_ ” he repeats as if there's something important about this stranger. Stranger? No… there’s something familiar about him. The hair, the clothes, cigarettes- horrible smell. Towels. Lots of towels. A razor. My face blanches in realisation.

“My first kill,” I mutter.

“And after that was my brother.” My face hardens. “You…” He examines me closely. “ _Ha,_ you don’t even regret it! You only feel bad about manipulating me,” he dryly laughs.

“So what if I don’t? They were both horrible people,” I try defending myself, though a small part of me disagrees.

“So that’s what you take pleasure in? It’s good to know you’ve become rotten. What happened to the Makoto who wouldn't hurt a fly, huh? You used to be so much better than this.”

"Screw you!" I push him away in anger. "You don't know shit about me!"

"I don't, because you constantly lied to me." He points at my heart with his index. “Your lungs aren’t the only thing darkening.”

* * *

Makoto lunges out of bed, patting down his flat chest in reassurance. He flexes his fingers, noting his knuckles aren't bruised. Soft snores come from the man sleeping next to him. He almost runs a hand through his hair. Heavily breathing, he shakingly walks towards the balcony. The fresh air is welcomed on his burning skin. The brunette brings a cigarette to his mouth with a trembling hand. He frustratingly groans, unable to shake away the less than pleasant dream. He grips after his brown locks as he tries to console himself. _I had no choice. I couldn't help it. It’s not my fault. I’m not a murderer. Not a murderer. Not a murderer. Not a mur-_

A hand settles on his shoulder, making him drop his cigarette with a yelp. 

“Are you- are you okay, Makoto? You’re not jumpy unless…” Laurent stares at the cigarette on the ground. “Were you smoking?”

“I-I…” The Japanese man sniffs, biting his lips in shame. “Last week, I.. fuck, I relapsed,” he humourlessly laughs, tears tracking down his cheeks. He gets engulfed in a hug and buries his face in his fiancé’s chest.

Laurent softly strokes his hair, kissing his forehead. “Don’t be mad at yourself, love. I know you wanted this to work.” He hears the smaller man sob and slightly panics. “It doesn’t mean you failed- I’ll be there to support you, I promise.”

“I appreciate it, I… I do,” shakingly says Makoto in between sobs. “But I just need to cry so… p-please hold me.”

The blond brings him closer. “Of course.”

* * *

Makoto would spend hours staring at the beautiful landscape surrounding him. The Scottish lowlands offer a burst of thousands of shades of green. Through the soft breeze, you could hear the chirping from birds. The sun is just at the right angle- truly making it the perfect day. He would notice all these details if only there wasn’t a gorgeous man facing him dressed in a delicate white garment embellished with bows and knots.

“You’re… you’re breathtaking,” he softly says.

Laurent warmly smiles, holding his hands. “Words can’t describe just how sumptuous you look.” 

The brunette furiously blushes, taken aback by the compliment. At his left stands everyone dear to him. They were all so eager for their marriage. And his father- he must have cried an ocean hearing the news, though he did tease the two about it for years. He almost wept again when he walked his son through the aisle.

The couple continues holding hands as the marriage officiant begins with the vows. “Will you share yourselves freely and generously with each other, making time to be together?”

“Yes,” they both answer, smiling.

“The first binding is thus made with dark blue, symbolic of Water, that your love may flow and fill you to your depths.” A dark blue cord is draped over their hands. “Will you each seek to ease the other’s pain and suffering, sharing laughter and joy?”

“Yes,” reply the two.

“The second binding is thus made with green, symbolic of Earth, that your love may be wise and nurturing, and your happiness abundant.” She places a green cord over the couple’s hand. “Will you strive to keep your romance alive through daily actions and words of encouragement?”

“Yes,” they brightly beam.

“The third binding is thus made with red, symbolic of Fire, that your love may be bright and passionate.” A red cord is added. “Will you both help each other to grow in spirit and wisdom?”

“Yes.” The couple grins.

“The fourth binding is thus made with light blue, symbolic of Air, that your love may be as limitless as the sky, and filled with spirit.” She finishes by draping a light blue cord, tying the four colours together around their hands. “You are now bound together, your two lives joined by love and trust into one life.” She concludes with a smile.

In his free hand, Laurent holds a ring made of black opal. Makoto gasps at the gemstone, covering his mouth from shock. He feels as if his heart is about to burst out of his chest.

“Makoto, I give you this ring as a sign that I choose you to be my husband and that I offer myself as your husband. Today, tomorrow, and always. I marry you with this ring. With my heart, with my body and with my soul.” He inserts the ring after the brunette’s hand, radiating love for his partner.

Makoto tries to stop himself from tearing up, this time holding the ring. He decided to go with pink topaz, thinking it goes well with the blond’s personality. He clears his throat, repeating the vow. “Laurent, I give you this ring as a sign that I choose you to be my husband and that I offer myself as your husband. Today, tomorrow, and always. I marry you with this ring. With my heart, with my body and with my soul.” 

Laurent offers his hand, a fond expression as the ring is added to his finger. They lovingly stare at each other before passionately kissing to the cheers of everyone around. 

The Japanese man slowly parts away, resting his forehead against his husband’s. _Husband._ He still can’t believe it. The marriage officiant unties the cords, wishing her best for them. In the background, Makoto can hear the cries of his father, making him snort. “I’ll be right back.” He gives another kiss to Laurent before walking up to Eddie. 

His father only needs to see him for one second before running to hug him. Makoto chuckles, hugging him back. “I didn’t see you as the emotional type,” he teases.

The older man chuckles, wiping away tears. “Only for you, figlio. Well, my husband too.” The brunette laughs with him, feeling his heart melt. “That reminds me, I have a gift for you.”

“Padre, you shouldn’t have-” He waves his hands around.

“It has more of an sentimental value.” 

Makoto looks at the new object in his hands, discovering a framed picture. A kiss he shared with Laurent dating from two years. It was when they confessed their love for the first time. He hugs the frame, recalling the memory before looking back at his father. “I… wow, I’m not even sure how to thank you.”

“Mhm… maybe a few grandchildren?” he playfully grins.

“P-Padre!”

* * *

France; the global centre of art, science and philosophy. It’s a leading tourist destination along with having the world’s seventh-largest economy. It should be the perfect place to spend their honeymoon, right? _Right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone, this is your daily dose of hurt/comfort.
> 
> here's how I imagine their wedding outfits looking like (left being laurent and makoto on the right)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want the translation of french words, you only need to tap or hover on the underlined text ;D

Makoto truly began to take a liking to France. Laurent and he were currently residing in a relatively peaceful corner of Montpellier. They had to fight tooth and nail for their apartment with all the students moving to the city (They decided to stay in France for at least a few months after their honeymoon). He particularly enjoys the local  _ café  _ down the street, although a few hipsters often visit it too. The owner is a kind man in his 50s who always wears a smile on his face. Oftentimes his daughter will help around, serving orders to clients. 

He’s not one to shame people for their age, daddy issues almost nonexistent thanks to Eddie, but he’s a bit surprised to see the older client amidst the young crowd this morning. Marie notices him and sends a nod, Makoto showing a thumbs up as a response. She came to memorise his order-  _ _

He thankfully finds someplace unoccupied, stretching his arms as he yawns. He rests his elbows on the table, his eyes drifting across the room. Makoto really likes that painting with snow. He almost starts daydreaming before his cup of coffee is laid in front of him. “Merci beaucoup, Marie.” He flashes a smile. 

She lightly blushes. 

The brunette sips on the delicious goodness, holding the cup to warm up his hands. He lays back, closing his eyes for a few seconds.  _ Man, this is the life. In France, surrounded by universities and art galleries, sipping on a good-ass coffee, nothing bothe-  _ He must have jinxed it because he’s interrupted by a ruckus.

“This is simply unacceptable!” exclaims the older man he saw earlier. Everyone becomes silent. “Oh, good, you understand English.”

“Monsieur, there is no need to get angry,” Sébastien, the owner, tries to reason. Marie nervously looks at the scene.

“To think I travelled all the way to Montpellier, only to have my tastebuds... violated!” A few people gasp. “This was an absolute waste of time. My disappointment is immeasurable.”

Makoto grits his teeth, getting off his chair and ready to give this Karen a piece of his mind. Someone behind catches his wrist, stopping him.

The man with dark scruffy hair shakes his head. He detects a British accent. 

“James Coleman,” the man in question says. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the name and how influential it is.” Coleman quietly speaks the last part. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Sébastien whispers.

“Let’s speak somewhere private and perhaps… we could arrange something to prevent the end of your whole career,” he smirks. 

The owner sighs before inviting Coleman to a backroom. Marie has a horrified look on her face, glancing at the clients who all seem to be clueless as to what to do now.  chocolatines!” She tries deflecting the situation and it actually seems to work, people now ordering the pastry. 

Makoto turns his head to look at the man he previously talked to. He’s repeatedly tapping a mechanical pencil against a sketchbook, frustration showing on his face. The brunette takes a long sip, debating if he should try talking to him not. He clears his throat, and the dark-haired man raises his head. 

He tries to start a conversation. 

The stranger winces. 

Once again, Makoto uses his power to make any situation turn awkward. He takes a bite of whipped cream, one hand drumming on his leg.  The lead snaps and the Japanese man slightly recoils.  _ Maybe I shouldn’t bring up the subject.  _ He quickly finishes his cup, joining Marie at the counter because he’s a coward. Taking out a few coins, he thanks her for the service and takes a quick look at the man that sat behind him before leaving. He hopes nothing bad will happen to the shop. He really likes that place.

There seems to still be quite a lot of people the next morning. He doesn’t see the mysterious guy. He’s not disappointed. Well… he would have liked to at least learn the guy’s name. Evidently, the man is not the only thing missing. Makoto almost drops his cup when he notices one of the paintings gone. Marie seems to notice his distress as she asks him if there’s something wrong.

She nervously laughs, twisting her braid. 

Makoto tightens his fist in anger.  She lowers her head, embarrassed.  _ What was that word Laurent used?  _

She starts giggling, covering her mouth.  She looks at his almost empty cup. 

Makoto lets himself be tempted.  macarons,” he winks.

Marie flashes a bright smile and quickly comes back with his order. He munches on the pastry, squeezing his legs in delight. He could easily become addicted to this food version of ecstasy.  _ I’ll get you that painting back, Marie, Sébastien. That’s a promise. _

* * *

“Laureeeeent.” He hugs his husband, nuzzling his face into his chest. “Mon coeur, mon trésor, mon chouchou, mon chéri d’amour~”

Laurent frowns suspiciously. “You only use pet names when you need something.”

Makoto ignores the comment. “Have I mentioned just how beautiful you look today?”

“Is that so? Do tell me more,” the blond smirks.

“Your skin is very shiny.” He looks at the taller man who’s waiting for him to continue. “You, um, have really pretty eyes. Your hair is very, uh… hairy- ugh, I give up.”

The Frenchman victoriously laughs, ruffling his hair. “So, what favour are you wanting to ask me?”

“Well, here’s the thing.” His two index fingers twiddle. “There’s a rich asshole who deserves a bit of a punishment, if you know what I mean.” 

“Makoto…”

“ _ I know, _ ” he sighs. “I know, but it’s just… his victims, they deserve justice! He should get a taste of his own medicine, dammit.”

“I should refuse,” sighs Laurent. “I definitely should.” He stares at his lover’s eyes. “I swear to the gods, Makoto- you will be the death of me.”

The brunette grins. “So that’s a yes?”

“It is, you little devil.” He pulls the smaller man into an embrace, kissing the top of his head. He feels the other still tense as he rubs his back. “I can hear your brain working.”

“I have to come up with a pl-” A finger is pressed to his lips

“Just don’t overwork yourself, babyboy.” Laurent turns his husband the other way, draping his hands over his shoulders. As he draws the muscles upwards with gentle pressure, the brunette releases a deep sigh, slowly relaxing. He continues with slow, smooth motions. 

“I always like it when you do that,” Makoto mumbles, eyes long closed. He doesn’t deserve to have such a devoted man as his husband. It’s terrifying how Laurent will always agree with whatever antics he joins. To have such an influence in someone’s life, it definitely is scary. He could tell Laurent to jump over a bridge and he would obey him- wouldn’t even ask why. Makoto’s thoughts become more sluggish as he lets himself succumb to his lover’s touch.

* * *

“What is an artwork worth? There recently was a huge surprise in the art community. Sergio Montoya’s long-lost masterpiece, Snow of London, was suddenly found. The key figure who found it is known as the Art World’s 007, Mr James Coleman,” announces the reporter.

Makoto angrily slaps a nicotine patch on himself as he watches the interview. 

“Ignorance is a shameful thing. As a true lover of the arts, I was truly shocked. The famous Snow of London was showcased in a coffee shop, of all places! You might have heard rumours of my critiques regarding their drinks. However, I was explained there had been a defect with the coffee machine and was given a full refund.” 

Well, isn't this a surprise? Maybe Coleman wasn’t such a bad guy. It’s possible he judged the man too quickly. He hugs his knees, his eyes drifting back to the BBC program. 

“Regardless, I gave a generous compensation to the owner for the troubles I had given them and bought the painting,” continues the man.

“Is it true its value is estimated at twenty million euros?” The reporter asks. 

“You’re correct, miss. Montoya is one of my favourite artists. I looked for Snow of London for a long time. Fortunately, I’m an auctioneer as well as an art dealer. I believe I will show this at an auction at a later date. Look forward to it-”

Makoto almost crushes the remote’s power button.  _ This pointy-noised bastard- _ He causes unnecessary problems, still comes out with a perfect image and gets exactly what he wants. He can’t ignore the fact that he’s about to make a  _ 20 million  _ profit and barely gave anything to Sébastien in comparison! No- enough is enough. It’s time to show that dipshit what Edamura Makoto is capable of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are my lifeblood (๑´ω`๑)
> 
> me after i learned how to code: mwahahaha I'm the almighty god, the universe's powers are in my hands!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know what time it is; but in case you weren't aware, this fic has a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6FZDIqgpYvYKisRkLEa9Vp?si=FQ_eVPzRSjijFfVaLBWYlA) and i regularly update it   
> (˳˘ ɜ˘)˳ ♬♪♫

“Alright!” Cynthia slams her glass on the table. It’s a miracle it didn’t shatter. “Let’s take on the job!”

Makoto rushes to hug her as she staggers in surprise. “Thank you thank you thank you!” he exclaims in gratitude.

“We’ve got to take it back. And…” She starts giggling. “We’ll bloody destroy him.” She mischievously smirks before he mimics her.

“Damn right.”

“What a fucking polyester cockwomble,” she mutters before taking a swing out of the wine bottle. 

Makoto stares at Laurent and Abbie who all seem to be as equally confused as him. 

“So something happened to you, huh?” He sits next to the redhead, placing a hand on her knee. “We’re here if you need to talk about it.” He sends a reassuring smile.

“He’s right, you know? I- we… care about you,” admits Abbie, cheeks reddening. 

The Japanese man feels a certain tension as Cynthia looks away, flustered. It can’t be… No. _No way_. Abbie wasn’t one to share much about her personnal life. He knew they were more or less on friendly terms but clearly, there’s something a bit more going on. He’s happy they’re not fighting anymore, of course. The endgame could be very sweet as much as it could be absolutely catastrophic. The latter is what scares him since it would be much, much worse than last time. 

“Edamame?”

Statistically talking, the average length of a relationship is four years. Would Abbie and Cynthia last that long? How long has it been with Laurent? Two years and a half… He knows there are some things the blond is keeping away from him, but it would be hypocritical of him to say he’s not doing the same. Could that be the tipping point?

“Is he dissociating?”

The brunette shakes his head. “Sorry- no, not dissociating. Just deep in thoughts,” he awkwardly laughs, silently consoling his husband that looked mildly concerned. 

“Forget all the sappy shit I said. What you should know is that there’s an… old acquaintance of mine that might be able to help us,” reveals Cynthia. 

“We can only hope that they agree. Before we do anything, though, we should go see the auction.” He’s been wanting to visit England, anyway. 

* * *

Makoto might be rich, but God help him if he ever becomes one of _those_ people. Not only do they look like walking fossils, but he would also prefer watching paint dry over having a conversation with them. 

James Coleman finds himself behind a podium. The brunette wonders if he’s standing on a platform to make himself look taller. Two men arrive, carrying the first painting. The guy on the right is kind of cute.

“Edward Caine. _Portrait of a Woman._ Since the late 18th century. Size, 91 centimetres. It’s a deluxe frame and it was preserved considerably well. Starting at 100,000 pounds!” Coleman announces with a proud smirk.

Someone already raises a hand. A second man. Then another woman. Makoto starts losing count. The price quickly rises.

“140,000. 150,000. 160,000. 170,000. No 180,000? No takers?” He twirls a pen, watching the audience.

“200,000,” a woman exclaims.

“200,000 pounds! Sold!” concludes Coleman, looking a bit too happy. 

Do they know each other? Perhaps Makoto should have a chat with her once this is over. He leans his head on Laurent’s shoulder, his eyes examining the room.

“Next is a bust by Jean Piscario. _Lamentation._ Bronze.”

On a closer look, there seems to be something familiar about the woman from earlier. Could it be that they’ve met before? Hmm… more the reason to meet her.

The auction ends soon after, thankfully Snow of London not having been sold. He gives a nod at Abbie, signalling her to begin with their strategy. All the while, he tails after his target as she exits the building. She slightly turns her head in his direction, suddenly stopping. Shit, he wasn’t ready for the woman to notice him so soon.

“Mr Cassano, what a surprise to see you here,” she exclaims in surprise. 

_Ah_ , so it was at one of his father’s parties. That would make sense with her financial status. How embarrassing that he doesn’t remember her name.

“Please, Meo is just fine. A pleasure to meet you here, Mrs…” _Come on, brain. Don’t fail me now._ “Fa… rrah Brown! And might I say, congratulations on your addition.” _That was close._

She doesn’t seem to notice him almost slipping up, sending him a polite smile. “It’s a beautiful work of art, isn’t it? Perhaps we should have tea over at my estate.” She hands him a business card. 

“That sounds like a wonderful idea. I’ll let you know when I’m available.” He forces back a smile.

“Excellent. I’ll be looking forward to it, Meo.” The brunette watches Farrah as she steps in the passenger seat of an expensive car. Hopefully, it doesn’t end up being a dead end.

He arrives back at their new shared Airbnb to loud swearing from Abbie. So, the usual. 

“Who shit in your cereals?” he asks, slightly amused by the situation.

“Coleman did.” Cynthia barks a laugh, cheeks flushed from alcohol.

Abbie groans, collapsing on one of the chairs. “That asshole’s tougher to reach than I thought.”

“You’re still talking about Coleman, right?” He deserves that pillow thrown at his face. 

Laurent, who’s been silently listening to their conversation, suddenly bursts out laughing, slapping his thigh. The brunette quirks a smile at the sound. 

“Perhaps a handsome face like mine is just the thing you need,” winks the Frenchman. 

Makoto approaches the man, metaphorical gears running in his head. He purses his lips as he’s deep in thoughts. Only after a few seconds, he emits a small gasp, grinning at Laurent. “You’re a genius!”

“Pretty sure you’re doing all the hard work,” he chuckles before stealing a kiss from his husband. 

The brunette straddles his lap, hooking his arms around his neck. “I think I can feel something else that’s hard,” smirks Makoto.

Abbie covers her eyes. “For fuck’s sake-”

Cynthia twirls her glass as the red liquid dangerously comes close to the rim, uncontrollably giggling. 

Makoto’s mouth is too occupied to say anything back as he’s carried to their bedroom by Laurent, but he proudly shows his middle finger at the short-haired girl.

* * *

“Who is this?” a deep and almost menacing voice asks at the other end of the line

Makoto stops in the middle of buttoning back his shirt. “You’re not- Anderson, is that you?” 

The detective sighs. “I should have known it was you, kid.”

The young man catches shuffling in the background as another voice can be heard from a distance. “ _Ahem._ Magne, why do you have my phone?”

It sounds as if he’s trying to cover the mic but is clearly failing. “I checked who was calling you and his name was literally just a bunch of heart emojis. I was… worried, okay!?” Anderson replies to Eddie.

Makoto loudly snorts. Of course his dad named his contact that way. 

“You think I would- Christ, just- gimme that.” He hears a hand furiously grabbing the phone. Yikes, his father doesn’t sound too happy “Figlio mio, I apologise for this _idiota_.” He loudly speaks the last word.

“You’re not gonna… fight with him, are you?” concernedly asks Makoto in a smaller voice.

“No. _No,_ I… I’m sorry, Makoto. You shouldn't be dragged into this.” Eddie’s voice softens. “Don't worry about us, it's not the first conflict we've had. We always try to resolve them in a healthy way.”

Makoto longly exhales. “That’s a relief. I don't think I could handle a breakup." He chuckles before remembering why he called in the first place. "Actually- I’m calling you because I need to ask you something.”

“Of course, anything for you.”

“What do you know of Farrah Brown?”

“Farrah Brown…” Eddie hums. “She’s the CEO of a fashion company started by her father. She inherited all of his connections. Rumours are she’s dating one of them; James Coleman.”

“Of all the men on this Earth,” he groans.

“Tell me about it. I have no idea what she sees in that _faccia di culo_. But regardless, she invests a lot of money into him,” sighs Eddie.

“That confirmed my suspicions. Thanks a lot, padre.”

“You’re not gonna hang up already, are you?”

“N-no, of course not!” Well, there goes away his next hour. He spots Laurent reading a book on a couch and lays his head on the blond’s lap, listening to everything his father has to rant about. The head massage he’s receiving is really nice, though. 

* * *

Makoto whistles in surprise as he’s standing in front of Farrah’s estate. Even the outside is enough to show off her wealth. He dusts off his Armani suit, thankful for the rare kind weather England has to offer. He approaches the pristine white bricks before knocking at the door. 

A butler welcomes him with a generous smile, leading him to a room where he finally meets his acquaintance. “I see you’re right on time, Meo,” she praises, stirring a cup of tea. 

He offers a smile, sitting at the chair facing her. “I’d hate to be a rude guest.” He smiles before his eyes drift to the selection of desserts displayed. Curse him for having a sweet tooth. “May I?”

“Of course!” she encourages, taking a strawberry shortcake for herself. She seems to actually be someone kind. He’ll limit the damages to Coleman only. 

Holding a scone, he starts by spreading the jam first and tops it off with cream. He takes a satisfying bite knowing he just angered half of the UK. His taste buds are definitely very pleased.

The two manage to make light conversation, Makoto having plenty of subjects to make small talk with. It turns out jasmine tea is both their favourite kind. Or so he says only to gain her favour. Silver-tongued as he is, he managed to bring back the topic of art once they’ve finished drinking their tea. 

“For someone that has such a large interest in art, I’m surprised to not see more paintings hanged,” carefully inserts Makoto.

“You’re certainly attentive,” she chuckles. “I keep them in a specialised room to ensure their longevity.”

“That’s certainly smart of you, Farrah,” he sends another smile.

> “The easiest way to make someone trust you? Smiling.” Aneko tells him. “There are tons of other tricks; mirror their behaviour, compliment them, reveal your flaws from time to time, emphasize shared values, make them feel validated, tell them a secret but show that you can keep a secret too, display a sense of humour, let them talk about themselves and last but not least, act as if you like them.”
> 
> “H-How do you know all this?” His eyes widen in amazement.
> 
> “Found a psychology book in the library. It’s been working with other inmates,” she grins.
> 
> “Number 822 and 428,” warns a guard. Fuck, they weren’t careful enough. He resumes to his task before sending back a discreet grin.

Makoto suddenly finds himself in a room completely covered by paintings. Breath stolen at the sight, he sits at the couch available behind him. His eyes dance across the walls, finding a new piece at each second that passes.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she exclaims in a marvelled tone.

Carefully placing a microphone under his seat, he represses a smirk. There’s no doubt this is Coleman’s den. 

“Absolutely stunning, just like you.” She giggles as a blush rises to her cheeks.

_I’ll make you lose_ everything _, Coleman._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anytime Makoto eats something:  
> 
> 
> so guys, i have to confess something. i've been having doubts about this fanfic. i would be so greatful if you could answer these questions: should I rewrite the early chapters? do you enjoy the way the story is going? should I change anything? add anything? not me having a crisis hahahaha


	20. Chapter 20

The four of them grimace in disgust at the sound of Coleman and Farrah… _fornicating_. Cynthia looks as if she’s about to throw up, Abbie’s face also looking sickeningly pale. 

“This will… certainly be good blackmailing content.” Makoto tries to look at the bright side. 

“Optimistic as always, little soybean.” Laurent grimly looks down, clearly regretting his life choices.

After a few more painful minutes, the horrific sounds stop to the huge relief of everyone. All they can hear is panting before their target finally speaks up.

“Sorry that I couldn’t help at such a crucial time.” They hear the man say. “And I made you buy something so expensive.”

There’s a pause before Farrah responds. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I bought it because I wanted it.”

“I’m always thankful for your kindness. To think that a famous artwork could fall into the hands of a blue-collared worker and get dirty. I can’t let that happen.” 

The brunette grits his teeth. How _dare_ he. What he would give to punch that dick. Looking at the other three surrounding him, he’s not the only one feeling anger. 

Coleman continues spewing words. “That’s exactly why I want someone who loves art to have them. Someone like you.” 

“The one who taught me to love art is you, James. From now on, I’ll buy any paintings you don’t want to part with.” 

Cynthia grips after her red locks. “Why does she fancy such a prick,” she grumbles. “And what’s got you smirking like that, Edamame?”

“They’re having a secret affair. We have more than enough information to cause harm,” he starts giggling, clutching his stomach as he transitions to cackling. He embraces the wicked feeling seeping through him. He glances at his friends as his laughter dies down. Wiping a tear, he asks them, “Wha- You guys okay?”

Laurent looks as if he wants to add something but refrains himself. On the contrary, Abbie doesn’t hesitate to speak her mind.

“We like you, Edamame. It’s just… you seem different now.” 

Makoto frowns. “We’ve always enjoyed conning these shitheads.”

“Yes, but-” she pauses, looking at the blond. “Nevermind, forget I said anything.”

“A-Anywho,” Cynthia tries breaking the awkwardness. “We know Coleman had Farrah buy the painting he wanted, having her make a collection for him.” She takes another sip of wine.

“It’s unfortunate for Farrah. More than friends, but less than lovers.” Laurent dramatically sighs, holding his beloved’s hand.

“That woman is an idiot for not realising she’s only being used.” Abbie shoves her mouth full of crisps.

“She knows but looks the other way. It’s what they call _the pitiful heart of a woman,_ ” continues the Frenchman.

The brunette nods in acknowledgement as if he knows a single thing about how women work. 

“A woman’s heart?” questions Abbie.

“It means that art isn’t what Farrah really wants.”

“You wouldn’t understand, Abbie,” Makoto smugly smiles, crossing his arms. He’s met with a death glare from her. “Wait, I was just joki- Laurent, help me!” he soon cries out as she starts assaulting him.

“My, my, little soybean. You should know to never anger a woman when she’s on her period.”

They both end up getting beat up.

* * *

“Why do _I_ have the role as the pervert?” complains Laurent, huffing on the smaller man’s neck. 

“As if you weren’t one already,” Makoto refrains from laughing at the Frenchman’s expression, observing Abbie as she tries charming the pointy-noised bastard once again. “Grab my waist.”

The other happily obliges, bringing their bodies closer as he caresses his behind. 

The brunette slightly blushes. _Now is not the time to enjoy this_ , he reminds himself. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“What for?”

Makoto mimics an offended gasp, slapping the blond’s cheek with a bit more force than intended. _Oops._ He storms out of Laurent’s hold, heading to where the auction will take place. From the corner of his eye, he can see Coleman looking at Abbie with concern. He mentally cheers himself before he feels his pocket vibrate. 

> _you didn’t need to go so hard_ (´;︵;`)
> 
> **i’m sorry hun**
> 
> **i’ll make sure to give you lots of kisses <3**
> 
> _maybe i’ll let you slap me again if that’s my reward_
> 
> _wink wink_
> 
> **is there a kink you _don’t_ have?**
> 
> _va the faire foutre_
> 
> **par toi ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)**

Makoto snorts by his seat, watching as the auction is about to begin. Cynthia shares an amused look next to him. He shouldn’t be surprised, she loves snooping on others’ conversations. The room seems to be particularly more filled than previously. 

“Maybe I’m imagining things, but it looks livelier here than usual. No, it’s not my imagination. Perhaps it’s because I was on the news on TV.” The Japanese man rolls hard his eyes. “I saw the video and I have to say, I look awful on TV.” 

The room chuckles at the comment and Makoto doesn’t hold back, clearing his throat as his laughter catches the attention of a few. 

“Let’s begin,” Coleman announces. 

Statues, sculptures, goblets and the likes are selling like hotcakes. He thinks back on his father’s mansion- the man certainly has more than a few expensive items. He remembers Eddie mentioning that a good portion of them was accepted as payment. _“How in heavens does a single black dot on a canvas sell for millions?!”_ His father had complained. Rich people have weird tastes.

“Without further ado, this is our final piece.” 

Makoto grips after his sleeves in excitement. A few people gasp at the new painting presented. From the corner of his eye, he sees Laurent smirking. 

“Sergio Montoya. _Snow of London_ , 1930. Size, 33.4 centimetres. Let’s omit the description. Starting at 10 million pounds!” the auctioneer declares.

He probably expects to use the human version of his wallet in order to gain Snow of London, but Makoto won’t let that fuckhead use Farrah this way. A few people raise the bid, much to the brunette’s liking. The higher, the better.

“20 million. No one else?” Coleman silently looks at Farrah. She raises her hand, adding 2 million. “Sold at 22 milli-”

“23 million!” exclaims his husband, Makoto covering his smirk with a hand. The auctioneer stares at Laurent as if he committed murder.

Farrah raises the bid again, looking less pleased. The Frenchman continues as the value goes up to 25 million. Murmurs echo around the room. 

“That’s 25 million,” his partner adds in his smooth voice that could make the Japanese man drop to his knees. 

Coleman tries to hide his nervousness although his sweat his quite obvious now. His secret lover shares his fear. The poor woman really doesn’t deserve him. Farrah hesitantly raises her hand. 

“26 million.” Coleman seems to believe that will be the end of it. How wrong the man is. 

“30 million!” smugly adds the blond, hands steepling. People’s whispering evolves into heated discussions. 

Makoto bites his knuckle to the strange look of Cynthia. Sue him for weirdly being aroused.

Coleman doesn’t seem to give up. “30 million! And this wonderful piece will be yours. Well then, does anyone dare go higher?”

_Give it up, woman!_ Makoto exasperatedly watches Farrah raising the bid again. The butler who welcomed him lowers her hand, trying to reason with her. 

He pleasurably hums as he sees Coleman dropping the pen he was holding, his chestnut eyes shining with hunger through the crowd. _I will eat you whole._

“I love this Montoya painting,” he grumbles on the stage. 

“Shouldn’t you call it?” winks the Frenchman. 

Coleman grits his teeth, droplets of sweat gliding along his face. He grabs the gavel, knocking it on the wood surface. “Sold!” 

“Serves you right.” Cynthia looks at him, sharing his joy. Makoto feels ecstatic about their plan going without a hitch. They could stop there. He has the painting and could simply give it back to its rightful owners. Money is not an issue for him anymore, after all. That is, if he was a nice man. But Makoto is not a nice man -not anymore- and he’s learned to embrace it. 

“I gained his trust,” Abbie reveals later on in their temporary house.

Cynthia cheers, “Nice job!” She hooks an arm around the other’s neck. Makoto doesn’t question why she’s often drunk these days. 

“This Montoya is amazing,” Laurent admits right behind him, wrapping his arms around his husband. The smaller man repositions himself in his lap. 

“I guess there’s no helping it, I’ll have to call him.” The redhead empties her glass.

“Your… old friend, was it?” questions Makoto, resting his head on Laurent’s shoulder.

She taps her chin. “I... suppose that's one way to describe him, yeah. He’s a really great painter,” she looks away, nostalgia showing on her face.

Abbie has the initiative to take her outside, proposing to distract her. Could it be a date? He fondly watches the two girls leaving before feeling arms wrapping themselves tighter around him.

“Now that we’re alone, I believe there’s a promise you should honour,” Laurent purrs. 

Makoto smirks, letting himself be carried to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd like to thank jabami yumeko for the inspiration. i'm really enjoying makoto's slow descent into darkness 
> 
> also, updates will probably be slower now as i think i might actually get a job??? it's good to know my weeks of job-hunting haven't been useless
> 
> have a good one, lads and ladettes!


End file.
